


Boston Kama Sutra

by DanteBeatrice77



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Angst, F/F, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 175,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanteBeatrice77/pseuds/DanteBeatrice77
Summary: Set in seasons 2/3/4. Jane, in an attempt to save the life of her partner, shoots Maura's biological father, wounding their friendship in the process. As an Internal Affairs investigation and family drama complicate an already impossible situation, can Jane and Maura push past the mire and find each other again?
Relationships: Maura Isles/Jane Rizzoli, Patrick Doyle/Hope Martin, Sean Cavanaugh/Angela Rizzoli
Comments: 126
Kudos: 328





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's my birthday weekend and I have been sitting on this project for months, so I decided to release it as a birthday gift to myself! I never do this, meaning, release a fic before I have completely finished it. However, this thing has become such a behemoth of a work in progress that I figured the waiting should be over. I am still typing away furiously at later chapters as we speak, lol. I also never really tie a fic to canon plot so heavily, but this is based entirely within the events of the show, with some extra magic sprinkled within. Dialogue is borrowed from lots of episodes in seasons 2 and 3, and woven into the story. With that said, I don't own Rizzoli & Isles in any way - the characters belong to Tess Gerritsen and Janet Tamaro. I also don't profit from any of this work. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you in advance for all your feedback and interaction with the story.

“I shouldn’t be letting you do this,” Jane smirked when she spotted Maura threading her mic through her blouse with shaky fingers. They sat in Jane’s cruiser, engine cut off just outside the back entrance of the Whistler factory. 

Fire still hovered in the air like a ghost, no orange-red in sight, but the smoky smell of it overwhelming. The sun shone bright in midday, made the cab warm, and the crisp breeze outside brushed against the hood in what would have been a wistful reminder of fall, Jane’s favorite type of sweet melancholy, but they each were too absorbed in the immediate moment to notice. “But you’re going to,” Maura said, savoring how her thumb felt rubbing against the bony lines of Jane’s fingers. Jane’s hand rested on the console and Maura reached out for it because she liked the way the veins popped under its skin. “Because this is the most likely avenue of success. He wants me dead, remember?”

Jane shivered. “I don’t need reminding. I don’t like using you as bait, Maura,” she said. Maura watched a rickety breath tumble into her nose and rattle down her trachea. Jane’s ribs expanded as though she were in pain, but her eyes were alight with affection. 

“We should go in now,” was all that Maura could muster. “Before he walks in to find it empty.” 

Jane just nodded. She unbuckled and got out, and Maura knew to stay put until she came around to the passenger side. When her door swung open, Jane’s outstretched hand replacing it at her side, her heart rate sped up. She took the hand, squeezed it, swung around and stepped out with her left foot first. 

The peppery smack of charred wood hit them both as they stood facing each other. There was the crunch of Korsak’s tires against the loose gravel of the alleyway, too, but neither of them paid it much mind.

Jane was too busy trying to read Maura’s green eyes. They were cloudy, there was depth to them, but there was also this addicting warmth. And that always threw Jane off, because even though she could decipher most people’s feelings with just a little bit of eye contact, Maura’s eyes always had so much love for her in them that it tended to muddle everything else.

Jane’s gaze usually loved her right back, but Maura had been through hell the past twenty-four hours. She needed to know the state of her. “C’mon - I’ll straighten you up over here,” she settled for that, pointed to the little enclave that led into the main warehouse, led Maura over to it. 

“What do you mean, straighten me up?” Maura teased. She let herself be guided and smiled in encouragement when Jane smoothed the shoulders of her blazer. 

“Your mic’s all tangled,” Jane teased right back. They both accepted the lie because it gave Jane license to be close. 

“How was last night?” Maura asked, wanting to lighten the mood when she saw Jane retreating into herself. And when Maura threw out a line, Jane could never ignore it; she needed to chase. 

“Pretty good,” Jane said through a throat clear, “but this morning was a different story. Take off your jacket.”

“You have to ask me out to dinner first,” Maura said, and it made Jane laugh. 

“I might if we all get out of this alive,” she replied. She adjusted the mic wire from the clip on Maura’s skirt through her blouse. 

Maura blushed at Jane’s comfortable audacity. “What made this morning a different story?” Again, distinctly male voices entered the periphery, but their eyes danced in response to each other’s mischief enough to drown it out. She wanted Jane to know, even mired in the tragedy that her mother’s accident had brought, that she was there for her. She would listen.

Also, Maura did not particularly like Gabriel Dean. She had said that he made a good match for Jane, and this was because they both were too married to their jobs to ever marry each other. And selfishly, Maura liked that she was a part of the job that Jane was so married to. So she bristled with a mixture of petty enthusiasm and easy sadness for her friend. 

“I told him… about Paddy,” confessed Jane, and Maura stiffened under her fingers. “He told me he wouldn’t do anything about it. That he was just listening as my… man.”

“Is he?” Maura raised her eyebrow in miffed confusion. She looked down at Jane’s scars to ground herself - whenever she studied them, a heady amalgam of love, longing, and goodwill surged through her and any annoyance toward Jane would fade. 

“Is he what?” Jane asked. Maura jumped when she slipped her thumb between her skirt and skin. 

“Your man,” Maura pushed. Tension emerged, but Maura couldn’t tell if it was between the two of them or between their warring situations. 

“No, he’s not,” said Jane through twitching lips. She stepped back and surveyed her work on Maura’s mic. It was still showing through the neckline just a bit. “I’m kinda rethinkin’ that whole thing.”

“Why are you rethinking him?” Maura asked in what sounded like a refined indifference, but really was a masked hope. 

“Because I asked him if he would just listen, if he would keep it to himself, and he was just… wishy-washy about it. Couldn’t commit. I can’t really be with a man that doesn’t at least give me his confidence when I ask for it. That’s not really a man.”

Maura smirked because this always happened. Jane looked for things in men that she freely gave everyone else: loyalty, time, attention, unconditional love. She’d never found it. Maura wondered if she knew that she was a better man than all the ones she’d found combined; that finding a man as good as her was a statistical longshot. “But he eventually said he would, right? That has to be what counts,” she goaded. She absolutely knew that it was  _ not  _ what counted with Jane, but to hear her best friend pontificate on virtue was one of Maura’s favorite pastimes.

“No. It’s not what counts. What counts is the sentiment behind it. And he didn’t sound very convicted, you know what I mean? He and I… we’re just not gonna work, I don’t think,” Jane said, as though she put the final touches on convincing herself. To top it all off, she had almost finished Maura’s mic, too.

“You know, this is my first undercover assignment,” said Maura, switching subjects to hide her pleasure. “Wait.  _ I’m doin’ a UC.”  _ She joked, waited for Jane’s smile. When it came, she continued. “I feel like Donnie Brasco.”

“Well you don’t look like him,” chuckled Jane, shoulders heavy with the burden of what Maura just said. She shouldn’t have had any undercover operations, let alone a first. Jane let the wave of protective fear pass over like nausea. “Can you keep it down please? A’right, we’re gonna tuck this wire right here and we should be done.”

“The microphone doesn’t make me look like I have three breasts, does it?” Maura asked, and Jane, for a moment, regretted modeling humor as a coping mechanism so much over the life of their friendship. Clearly Maura had caught on more than anticipated. 

However, Jane still refused to be bested in the area she perfected. “Well, some people are into that,” she shrugged. She shuddered when Maura’s elegant laughter tickled her nose. They were very close. 

“Is this what you’d wear to an undercover operation? I feel a little dressy,” Maura confided, and she narrowed her eyes at the way Jane looked almost lost. An urge to take her into her arms overwhelmed Maura, but something in the way Jane’s biceps turned hard and her legs spread open as she worked said that it would be the wrong thing to do. 

“Nah. I’d wear a flak jacket,” answered Jane, in the handsome way she usually talked about tactical gear – with a twinkle in her pupils and a lopsided, close-mouthed little grin. 

“Oh you know, I know this sounds vain-”

“You, vain?” Jane retorted immediately, and her grin was a full-blown smile in milliseconds. 

“But I couldn’t be a cop,” Maura finished almost at the same time as Jane’s tease and then she turned red. “Well, admit it. Even you, with all your unfair musculature, look a little chunky in a flak jacket.”

Jane liked this, the back and forth. It made her feel a little more normal about the very non-normal, very dangerous, situation unfolding before them. “Wow, really? Ok. Even with my long bones? Thank you very much. And you know what? I think your little Medical Examiner get-ups make you look like a trash collector.”

“You do? So do I!” Maura gasped in revelation, “I always feel a little dumpy.” 

Jane melted at her sincerity. She thought about what could happen once they crossed the threshold of the warehouse and she burned with protection and possession. She watched Maura straighten the front of her blouse and resolved to do  _ anything  _ to make sure she could watch her chase away the wrinkles on designer clothes until they were both in the grave. “Put your jacket on.”

To Maura this sounded a lot like  _ I love you,  _ so she complied, even if her arms were a little shaky. “Ok.”

Jane seemed tortured for a moment when she stood up straight, her lips coming together in a hard line before she spoke. “You wanna know what’s truly odd about you?” she asked, and the  _ whoosh  _ of air displaced by Maura’s hair as she pulled it from her collar smelled like gardenia. Jane tried to swallow the smell up.

“Ah, I’m not sure,” Maura said, shaking her head. 

“You’re the dumbest genius I know,” Jane stated anyway.

Maura knew she should be offended, but there was light bouncing around the moisture in Jane’s eyes. “’I’m not sure’ means ‘pause,’ means ‘do not blurt your subconscious thoughts,’” she settled for instead, with a glare for good measure.

“Oh right, sorry,” Jane sighed, a mixture of put out and amused. 

“Is this displaced aggression because I get to go undercover and you have to be my backup?” Maura asked with both index fingers pointed at Jane, nearly touching her belly. 

Jane stepped a little closer, and the smile left her. “Yes.” Her words continued their play, but sadness overtook her tone, her walk, her stance, everything. It weighed on her. “We should get in there.”

“Ok, let’s go,” Maura said, finally taking Jane’s arms and holding them, caressing them with her thumbs.

“Listen to me, a’right? This is serious,” Jane warned. She put her forehead against Maura’s. “Somebody is trying to kill you to stop you from investigating a murder.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Jane,” said Maura, knowing that Jane loved it when she said her name that way, low, comforting. “I was there when he nearly drove over my mother.”

Jane opened her eyes with difficulty. “You know we’re only letting you do this because we’re hoping that whoever this guy is, he is desperate enough to follow you into that warehouse and try again?”

“Yes,” Maura nodded as she whispered. She wanted Jane to understand that she understood, that she took Jane’s pain, her gamble, seriously.

“But we’re gonna be there this time,” Jane said. She sounded as though she were telling herself as much as Maura. “I got you.”

Maura bit her lower lip and anticipated what would come next. Jane was so impossibly close and burrowing into her heart with all her unruly loyalty and unwavering protection. “I’m ready,” she said, more than just to their plan. When Jane only stood there, only closed her eyes and tried to take all of Maura in through the breath in her nostrils, Maura panicked. “Wait, what do you guys say to each other right before you pull the string?”

Humor was her parachute. It removed her from putting herself on the line. 

Jane was taken aback. She made a face like she had eaten something sour. “It’s called a sting, Maura.”

“Sting,” Maura echoed. She thought about the word, swished it around in her mouth for the feel. 

Jane sighed, supposing playing along couldn’t hurt. “We say, “don’t get made.”

“I like that, ‘don’t get made,’” replied Maura. When she saw the nervousness play out against Jane’s irises, all the way down to her mouth, she said, “Don’t look so worried. What could go wrong?”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a short, transitional chapter based entirely off of the plot and dialogue of 2x15. Starting in chapter 3, things will begin to diverge and change. Some pieces of dialogue once attributed to some characters will be spoken by others, just to help the flow of the story in written form. We are setting the stage for what is to come! :)

"You looking for where Craig died?" Kevin Flynn, handsome and tall, if a little unnerving, emerged from the shadows just beyond where Maura had laid out the plans for the Whistler factory on a singed shelf.

She froze when she heard his voice, expecting someone, but still on edge nonetheless. He came from behind, stalked forward, and he emanated the danger of a man divorced from inhibition. The catwalk above them, charred and warped, groaned as if to warn her of his instability. She replayed Jane's _I got you_ over and over again as a calming mantra. "Yes," she replied openly. She looked as if she had no fear.

Flynn had been one of several men Boston Homicide had considered for the arson that gutted the Whistler factory. He was a legacy firefighter, his father and grandfather also in the same company as he. He had been vocal to the union about layoffs and lack of funding in recent years, as had a few others. Ultimately, it was the St. Florian's cross decal affixed to the back of the car that struck Constance Isles that narrowed it down to him and two others. Three men they could investigate for murder.

When he approached her, started to circle her, Maura circled back. They walked in tandem, pushed outward and pulled forward by some centrifugal force as he pointed to the ground below. "We found him right about here. You know, my grandfather died fighting the '72 Vendome fire," Kevin said, sounding measured despite his aggressive stance.

"I'm sorry," Maura replied in politeness. She shook, but only minutely. Not in a way that he would notice. To him, she knew that she looked in control, that she looked in charge.

"City kept cutting back, and cutting back... " Kevin continued, stopping so that he could see Maura's face, so that he could close in on her, "how do you fight all these fires without enough firefighters, huh?"

_Ah._ Maura narrowed her gaze in insight. This was about money, and death. Two driving factors in many of the cases she watched Jane work. She almost felt for Kevin, knowing how slow the wheels of progress could move when the city or the state funded your livelihood. In the meantime, good men died putting out preventable fires with old gear that could have saved them if it were newer.

But, Kevin was not a good man. He hid behind the guise of goodness, using the story of his grandfather's death and the plight of his fellow firefighters to justify murder. And Jane, hidden behind some still-standing shelving just beyond the two of them, Frost at her back, bristled with disgust. She imagined murdering Frost to draw attention to police budget cuts, or torching Korsak's apartment to make a statement about the lack of department accountability when one of their own used excessive force. _Insanity._ Kevin was bad.

She watched Maura, her heart thumping in a voracious semi-rhythm as Maura went toe to toe with him, and banished her previous thoughts. What she needed now, what Maura needed now, was for her to focus all of her brain power and her willpower on negating the Flynn threat. Her gun felt light in her hands, too light. She wanted to empty the magazine into him for how he threatened Maura with his body. She took a small nasal breath and forced the oxygen to calm her as best it could under the circumstances.

When she heard the crunch of a footstep trying and failing to be quiet just a few feet away from her, she expected to see Korsak. She expected to open her eyes and give him a nasty signal that told him to shut the fuck up, something subtle and completely Jane in that it would also tell him that he was clearly getting too old for this, given how loud he was.

When she opened her eyes and saw Gabriel Dean, her blood screamed. "You follow me?" she mouthed, no sound, fearing that she would growl at him if she vocalized.

He stood there in a poor mockery of her stance, gun at his side, and shook his head _no_. This confused Jane further, angered her further. Clearly it was a lie. Why the hell else would Dean be anywhere near her very Boston, not at all federal, case?

However, she couldn't afford any more attention to him. She turned back to Maura.

"You shouldn't have come here by yourself," Flynn said to Maura, getting even closer.

Maura shook her head in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, and Jane internally congratulated her for buying the detectives as much time as she could. Maura's innate curiosity combined with her intellectual superiority made her uniquely suited to deflection and obfuscation. This filled Jane with pride. She shook out her shoulders under the pretense of readying her gun hand, but really it was to repress the shiver of delight at how well they worked together.

"You know why not," Flynn answered. "I had to make sure people understand that they can't keep laying us off."

This was the first thing like a threat he had uttered to Maura in the few minutes that they had been talking. Maura took a step back, and Jane's right foot took a step forward.

"How did you do that, Kevin?" Maura asked, and things began to turn. The question sounded a little too much like a push, a little too much like a trap.

Flynn smiled in the way that a man who has made up his mind does. "You know how - I burned a few buildings. Then Craig started digging around, just like you. You both should have just left if alone," he whispered, and then his gun was out.

"Kevin no! Don't!" Jane screamed, emerging from her cover. Maura dipped in self-preservation before Flynn could shoot her, but he was falling to the ground, a bullet hole right in the middle of his chest, before Jane could even raise her weapon.

Maura flinched at the sound of the gun, still kneeling, and whipped her head towards the source of the killshot. Paddy Doyle stood on the catwalk that had swayed only minutes before, gun raised and clearly the reason that Kevin Flynn laid dead in front of her. She looked back to Jane, to put eyes on her, to make sure she was ok, but Maura saw Gabriel Dean instead, aiming straight at her father.

"Drop your weapon, Doyle," Dean ordered, voice hoarse and a weak imitation of force.

"Gabriel, no!" Jane screamed again, but the shot was fired before she could even finish. Dean's bullet clipped Doyle in the shoulder and he stumbled back.

Doyle recovered, Dean raised his gun again, but this time, Doyle's shot hit, and Dean went to the ground with a hole in his leg. Doyle stood, proud, unbothered, purpose undiminished, as Frost pointed his firearm toward him. Doyle, without hesitation, waved his gun towards Frost, intending to kill, but Jane hit him in the belly with a bullet of her own.

It dropped him over the railing and fifteen feet to the debris-ridden ground below before Maura even finished yelling "no!" at her.

Maura ran to him, put her hand to his wound in a sickening mirror of how she had tried to keep Jane's viscera from spilling out only a year before. "Hope," Doyle whispered, straining to look Maura in the face. "Hope," he repeated.

"Maura!" Jane yelled, her voice gruff with shame and fear.

"Hope? What do you hope?" Maura asked Paddy, desperate to keep him conscious, desperate for anything he could give her before his life faded away. She held onto him as though to keep that very life inside. Her blood rattled in a frenzy inside of her, her heart pounding and squeezing, and suddenly all that mattered was that her father was here in front of her, and he was dying.

"Hope," he struggled to get the word out again.

"Maura!" Jane shrieked, wild with worry, and she sprinted toward the two of them, Doyle and his daughter, tearing off her blazer as she ran. "Oh God, Maura," she sobbed when she kneeled next to them. She bunched the fabric of her jacket in her hands, still hot from the shot she fired off, and tried to put it to Doyle's bleeding torso.

Immediately Maura smacked her hand away. "Don't touch him," Maura screamed through clenched teeth, eyes burning with fury. Her father was here in front of her and he was dying and his killer was trying to touch him.

"Hey, Maura," Jane whispered and tried again, hoping to push through shock and find some sympathy.

"No I mean it!" Maura spit, her voice loud and venomous and all directed at Jane. She pushed her away again. "Don't you dare touch him," she threatened, and Jane knew that it is a threat. She knew that Maura meant what she intended when she laid that boundary down, and Jane wanted so badly to bleed all over the boundary, hoping that her bleeding could save them like it always had, but knowing it couldn't when she was the reason, her bullet was the reason, that they were there.

So, she only stared back at Maura in fear, in mourning of all that she felt she had just lost.


	3. Chapter 3

Jane eventually retreated from the strange, reverse, _perverse_ pietà of Maura Isles over Paddy Doyle. She couldn't help but feel that as Maura hovered near him, her tears sought to absolve him of all of his sins and make him into something good. Something he was not.

Jane knew that she was being irrational. She knew that the relationship between a child and a parent transcended good and evil, because be they good or evil, a parent never stopped being the person who begot you. Of course Maura wanted Paddy to be everything he was never going to be. Of course she wanted him to love her not just in the way that he already did, but in the way that she wished he would. Of course she panicked when he fell, and of course she trembled in fear and agony when her second parent in as many days hovered between life and death. But when Maura spurned Jane for Paddy, screamed at her for Paddy, Jane felt her heart break.

And when Jane's heart broke, she got angry.

She stomped outside the factory and into the alley where their unmarkeds were parked, with Frost trotting quickly behind her. "I'm calling it in," he said, not giving her the chance to debate him when he pulled out his phone. "Three GSWs at the corner of Kneeland and Utica - officer involved shooting with one agent down, one suspect dead, and one civilian seriously injured," he told dispatch. His voice drifted further and further away as she marched unsteadily toward the trunk of her car. She put her hand on the lid to steady herself and fought the urge to throw up.

"What the hell happened in there?" It was Korsak that she heard next. She wasn't expecting him and she jumped. "Jesus, kid."

"Paddy was there," Jane said, with her wrist to her nose, "Paddy was there and because Paddy was there, Dean was there," she shrugged as though this explained everything. "Paddy shot Flynn, Dean shot Paddy. Then Paddy shot Dean and when he took aim at Frost I… I took him out."

"Paddy Doyle was in the factory? Why?" Korsak questioned, as though he was interrogating her. He had his brown suit jacket on, his gray hair clipped close and styled tight - all that was missing was his notebook and pen with the way he stood to keep her from running.

"I'm assuming because someone tried to kill Maura," Jane growled. How it made sense, she wasn't quite sure, but it did. The only person in the city who loved Maura half as hard as she did was laying, dying, on the floor of the building behind them. Of course he knew Flynn was a threat to Maura, and of course he would try to take Flynn out because of it. "He wanted the guy dead himself."

"And Agent Dean?" Korsak asked. Jane tried to tell herself that she was imagining his accusatory tone.

"He's FBI and they've wanted Paddy for decades. He probably saw it as the best chance to get him," she replied in a defensive tone of her own.

"Look kid, no judgment, but how the hell would Dean know Paddy was here? And why the hell would he shoot him? He's wanted for 15 murders and countless racketeering charges. How is Paddy useful to any of us dead?" Korsak stepped forward and put a meaty hand on Jane's shoulder to calm her.

She worked herself into hysteria anyway. "I told him, a'right? I told him last night that we had eyes on Paddy and he told me that he wasn't going to do anything with that information. He told me that he was just gonna listen. Clearly he fucking didn't," she spat out, the climbing walls of the alley around them her confessional. "Maura hates me, Vince," she said in a much quieter, much more helpless voice, "she fucking hates me."

Korsak's blue eyes ballooned for just a few tell-tale milliseconds. He hadn't even considered Maura in all of this, let alone her reaction. He felt stupid when he pulled Jane in for a hug. "Her dad's laying in there with a couple of bullets in his body. That'd make anybody crazy. Give her time, Jane."

Jane wanted so badly to hold onto his words, but she couldn't, so she just settled for the comfort of the spice in his cologne and his strong arms at her back. They clapped hard to signal the end of their embrace when Frost walked up to them.

"Units are on their way, Jane," he said, and she nodded. "You did what you could. You did what you were supposed to do. He was gonna take me out."

"Yeah," was all she said, hoarse like she had lost her voice.

"I mean it," he said, his eyes all kind and soft. Jane loved him but his stare made her feel weak. She turned away from him. "You couldn't just let me die."

"Tell that to Maura," Jane whispered harshly when she heard the whine of sirens and the screech of tires pull in around them.

Boston Police cruisers, including one with her brother in it, and FBI vans peeled onto the asphalt, and suddenly there was a flurry of yellow caution tape and crime scene cameras. The relative quiet of the time with her partners was invaded by barely controlled chaos, and Jane stood there, feeling helpless.

The blare of the ambulance jolted her as it pulled up right next to her car, and two paramedics burst out from behind its doors. They wheeled the gurney and grabbed their equipment with brutal, surgical precision, and a coroner's van just like it parked at the opposite end did the same, outfits a little different, but everybody preparing to bring out a body. Both teams swarmed into the factory and Jane knew everything was about to change. She just hoped one of those bodies was still alive.

Almost as soon as they went in, the coroner's team marched out with Kevin Flynn on their stretcher in a black bag. She could tell it was him, because the body was long and broad in a way that Paddy Doyle wasn't. She fidgeted, danced from one heel to the next, anxiety forcing her into motion, in dread of what she would see next.

It was worse than she had expected. Maura, her rage making her beautiful and terrifying to Jane all the same, kept pace with the EMTs that wheeled a stabilized Doyle toward the ambulance. She glared at Jane pointedly as they walked past, eyes that had loved her just an hour before now hated her in the way that they glistened and narrowed, communicating nothing but severance.

Jane could think of nothing worse. Anger was there, yes, and so was hurt. But the distance, the way Maura's gaze cut her off like a gangrenous limb? Her chest burned and the pain radiated out until she could hardly speak. "I just shot my best friend's father," she whispered, the taste of it acidic, when Korsak walked back up next to her.

"You had no choice," he said, half to be comforting and half to state the obvious.

"How's that supposed to help me when I go home tonight, huh? When I gotta go home to that?" she gestured widely to the ambulance just as Maura climbed in, still with ice in her irises.

"Jane, you shot a man who's the head of the Irish mob," Korsak replied, "20 years on the run. Again, suspected of 15 murders."

She shrugged. "Yeah well he was nice to her though," she joked bitterly. She knocked desperately on humor's door, hoping for it to come out and save her, but there was no answer as her statement fell flatly against the fall air.

"Well that doesn't make him her father or mean you stop doing your job," said Korsak, shaking his head with all the adrenaline finally settling low in his stomach after spending the last half hour or so holding tight to his chest. "My God, I didn't think this was the way we'd take down Paddy Doyle."

Jane didn't even try to listen to him because she was too busy watching Maura dismount the ambulance and slap its closed doors as it drove away.

She turned toward the two detectives when Doyle was en route to the hospital, focused only on Jane again.

"See? She hates me," Jane said under her breath.

Vince shook his head, taking his exit, knowing this was something he shouldn't be in the middle of. "She's just in shock, Jane," he offered as his last condolence, and then he was gone, meeting back up with Frost.

Maura thrust Jane's blazer right at Jane's belly, and even though Jane caught it with ease, she could still feel the malicious force behind the gesture. "Here, take your jacket," Maura fulminated - a quiet utterance but a very loud sentiment.

"Maura, c'mon," Jane replied tiredly, but still Maura started to walk away. She needed to say something, anything, to keep her here, in front of her. If she turned away again, she might never come back. "I had to - Paddy showed up and he shot our suspect."

That did it. Maura turned on her heels instantly. "He shot the guy who tried to run me over with his fucking car yesterday, put my _mother_ in the hospital," she spat, the rare curse filling Jane's blood with a fire she didn't have time to investigate.

"Look," Jane said as she stepped forward, "we had a handle on it until Paddy crashed our operation," she replied with impetus, giving into the desire to be drawn in.

"Oh! You mean your boyfriend had a handle on it? Thanks for letting me know that Agent Dean was planning to join us," Maura shot back, for reasons more than just that she felt out of the loop. Her hate for him grew under the excuse that he had wounded her father, but it was born out of entirely different reasons. This gave her space to air out the grievance that had bubbled between them when Jane last had her hands on her.

"I told you he's not - I didn't know he was gonna follow us in there, but what'd you expect him to do?" Jane bristled at this new development, half in fury and half in curiosity. She teased it out, wanted more of it, whatever Maura was giving her. "He's a federal agent! Paddy shot him!"

"In the leg!" countered Maura, "if Paddy wanted Dean dead, he'd be dead."

This was too far, however. Maura sounded to Jane like so many of the suspects and witnesses she'd brought in over years in homicide. Excuses for murder, excuses for strongmen, excuses for the actions of dangerous people. She hated it, especially on Maura. "What're you saying - you don't think your father was gonna take us all out?" she balked at the audacity of Maura's naivete. "Shoot _me_ too? Because he would have, Maura. He doesn't give a fuck about me. He woulda shot me too."

"He was only there to protect me," Maura replied, "the way _you_ should have been. It should have been your bullet in Flynn, for me. If it were, we wouldn't be in this fucking mess! Instead all your attention was on Dean!"

Jane was aghast. Her skin was flushed with shame at the insinuation that she had failed to protect Maura and instead had broken her heart. She was angry at Maura's complete misunderstanding of how her training prepared her, how these high intensity situations worked. She turned her ire at all of it on the person in front of her. "If that's what you think… you are naive, or ignorant, or I don't know what."

Maura had plenty of her own rage to battle it. "Well, at least I don't play judge and jury and kill people," she said calmly before walking away, taking from Jane the one thing she knew that Jane needed most - her time and her presence.

Jane saw the naked power play and contemplated storming after her when she looked down at the high slit in Maura's skirt, contemplated chasing the skin there, contemplated screaming at the owner of those legs to listen to reason.

Korsak found her before she gave into those baser impulses. "You guys'll make up," he said, hand at her back as soon as he saw that it was over.

Jane could only swallow her own shock. "Y-yeah," she stuttered, "that's what they said about the Beatles. We shoulda never let her do this. Nah." Korsak considered staying with her, driving her back to the station himself, distracting her from the detonation of the thing she cared the most about, but decided on none of it and walked away when she continued to mutter to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to the last of the short and sweet chapters. The rest of them are easily double or triple this length. LOL


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things over on the other fan fiction site are going up in flames, apparently, but have this Election Day present: chapter 4 few days early! Things start to become what I would call canon-adjacent soon. Hope you enjoy!

“The hell’s the head of IA doin’ conducting interviews now?” Jane barked. She slammed the driver side door of her cruiser so hard the car rocked when she walked away.

Frost knew better than to call her out on it, especially since she was gunless and Mauraless. “I don’t know, Jane, but let’s get the story straight,” he offered, jogging a few steps behind her in the parking garage. The garage itself, one that had originally belonged to the community college down the street, was bought and renovated by BPD a few years earlier and technically sat a block away from the station. Cops hardly ever parked there unless they had to - it was far enough away to be inconvenient when they needed to whisk away to a scene, or a court date. 

Jane hated it. But as soon as Cavanaugh told her that Captain Connors wanted to interview her directly, she went into Zamboni mode, riding over all her imperfections - she became a caricature of the perfect cop: parking where she was supposed to, following her lieutenant’s orders without complaint, timely arrival to appointments with superiors. All with the sourest look on her face anyone at BPD had ever seen her with. “The story’s the story, Frost. What happened, happened.”

“You know what I mean,” he replied, getting a little annoyed. “You had my back and I’m just tryna have yours.”

“You mean you’re tryin’ to have Maura’s.” Jane looked behind her before she full-stopped and turned around to face him. She halted their progress on the stairwell that was exposed to the air - the only part of the building not monitored by CCTV. Frost took a moment to still be annoyed, but then begrudgingly respect her shrewdness. Mostly despite her cantankerousness. 

“Yeah, would that be so bad? You guys are so close that a lot of times it’s the same damn thing,” he whisper-shouted. “So, if it helps both of you to say that I didn’t know Paddy was in town, or why Dean was there-”

“No no, no,” Jane said in a wince as she waved him off, “we’re not lyin’. We don’t need to lie. We don’t know why Dean was there. We could take an educated guess, but we’re not gonna do that. Not with IA.”

Frost nodded and shrugged. “All right. Well, what are you gonna tell them?”

“Depends on what they ask, Frost,” Jane replied, turning toward the stairs and stomping down them.

“What are you gonna do about Maura?” Frost dared to ask. The question was timid, and the intent behind it was pure. He watched her shoulders cock back and her hips sway in a way that hyper-sexualized her in response. Even without her gun, she was tall and hard and all angles and lines. Most men, when Jane did this, shirked away, and he used to be most men. But as they got closer, understood each other better, he realized that this was simply Jane: it wasn’t an affect, a facade to make her feel more powerful, or an act. She just inhabited her body this way. He and Maura were probably the only two people on the planet, besides maybe her brothers, that accepted this about her. Korsak barely noticed; most guys on the force berated her for it to keep their ego intact. Therefore, Jane couldn’t afford to lose one of the very, very few people on the planet who knew her that way. If Frost could play a part in keeping she and Maura together, any part, he’d do it. 

Jane froze for the tiniest of moments, something Frost probably only noticed because he was a detective. “I don’t know yet. I’ll figure it out when we get through this IA mess,” she growled at him when she didn’t necessarily mean to. He shook his head behind her and she felt it. “What kind of flowers say, ‘sorry I shot your bio dad because he was trying to kill my partner; please don’t stop loving me?” She asked in sarcasm, but it didn’t lighten the mood and she didn’t look at him when she swung open the door to BPD headquarters.

* * *

“The way I reacted, I just bit Jane’s head off,” Maura turned and said to Angela Rizzoli as she waited for the older woman to round the corner. Maura hated hospitals, hated the sickly-sanitized smell that just barely masked the stench of illness, hated how alive everyone felt to her as they struggled for their last gasps of air, or struggled to recuperate enough to cheat death and walk out. She much preferred the stillness of her morgue, the quiet that allowed her to work and to analyze. “Adrenaline impairs cognitive sequencing, but still.”

There was so much fighting going on in hospitals, and fighting was more Jane’s business. She had fought and scrapped when she shot herself to save Frankie and Maura from Marino a year and a half ago, hooked up to ventilators and heart monitors and IVs full of deliriously strong antibiotics. Maura had decided then that she never wanted to be so close to the front line of the war between life and death again, and yet, here she was, in the trenches with both her mother and her biological father when fighting came so much easier to the Rizzolis.

“You were afraid for your life,” Angela reasoned, trying to bring Maura comfort. She was out of her depth, too, so used to Italian kids who needed Italian love and Mediterranean bluster to feel better, and not Irish kids who needed clinical precision and impenetrable logic.

“Oh no, Paddy wouldn’t have shot me,” said Maura. She turned to Angela and they spread out a little bit into the linoleum covered hallway of the orthopedic wing of the hospital.

“We can’t help who we love,” Angela replied, in her usual cryptic way. Her eyes bounced around the room and ended pointedly on Maura.

“I don’t love Paddy Doyle,” Maura said, “He’s done terrible things. It’s just when Jane pulled that trigger… you know, I never really see how they end up on my autopsy table. And he kept trying to tell me something. ‘Hope,’ he kept saying ‘hope.’ I wonder if that was her name.” 

It was all a lie, all of it. Angela meant something different; Maura knew that Angela meant something different; Angela knew also that even in her deflection, Maura was lying because she did love Paddy Doyle. Maura also often saw how people ended up on her autopsy table. Lie upon lie upon lie to obfuscate something she didn’t want Angela to see.

“You mean your biological mother’s name?” Angela responded. She wanted to chase Maura’s cover-up, but again, those were her Italian instincts. She had no Irish instincts, so she let the Irishwoman before her lead the conversation.

Before Maura could answer, the attending surgeon burst through the double doors of the suite with a clipboard in her hands. “Dr. Isles, I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but you didn’t fill out the DNR.”

“I have no idea what he would have wanted… I don’t…” Maura began, and then the tears began in earnest. She dropped her head and gulped down a sob. 

“Well,” said the doctor kindly, “just think about it for a minute.” She touched Maura’s arm and then walked away.

“Oh Maura, Maura,” Angela cried, her inhibitions melted away. She reached for Maura as much as a balm for her own distress as for Maura’s. 

Maura pulled away as if she were scalded. “Please don’t," she said, “my mother’s very reserved. I’m not very good at it, either.”

Another lie. Angela had seen Maura wrapped up in so many of Jane’s hugs, so many of Frankie’s hugs, so many of her own hugs, countless times. She’d seen her hold onto her adult children tight enough to hurt and she’d seen them hug her just as tight. However, her executive functioning had kicked in again, and she respected Maura’s arbitrary boundary. Who was she to call out the grieving? “Jane always used to squirm off of my lap. You two have that in common.” she offered.

Maura sighed, put her defensive hand down. “You should go home. I’ll be fine.”

“No, no,” Angela said, “I-I’m gonna stay here.” She stepped forward again but didn’t try the hug. 

Maura didn’t move away, but her body became rigid. “No,” she commanded, firm, with her chin high in the air. “I’m used to being alone. Please, I’ll be ok.”

Angela couldn’t help but feel like she’d somehow made Maura take care of her instead of the other way around.

* * *

Jane threw her unmarked into park right up on the hospital’s front curb. Korsak was right - to outsiders, they looked dirty for keeping Paddy’s movements to themselves. She looked dirty for what she asked the team to do for Maura. And that meant, to IA, there was plenty of evidence to take her gun away. That was why she had to get to Maura, and quickly - even though Maura had ignored her last five calls, even though Maura had thrown her jacket in Jane’s face and taken her heart out of Jane’s hands. She needed Maura to hold it down. She needed Maura to be a ride-or-die, just for the day, to make sure that IA didn’t ruin Jane’s career, all for the moment of a colossal sexual error. She needed Maura to save her from the mistake of Agent Dean and the dirty things she had done to protect Maura’s biological father.

Jane stomped through the walkway, flashed her badge to the front desk with only a grunt, and punished the Up button on the elevator with her finger.  _ 5th floor _ . Five floors between her and Maura, five floors until she put eyes on Maura again, until she could convince Maura to set this thing right. Jane told herself that she could live with Maura hating her for the foreseeable future as long as she could protect her from afar with all the weight that the badge afforded her. She stepped into the car when it opened to receive her, dragging a heavy aura in with her, slamming the door-close button as soon as she could. 

“Maura!” she half yelled, half groaned when she saw Maura sitting there in the hallway. She gulped in air from her sprint toward the waiting area, all hunched shoulders and dark eyes and determination. As soon as Maura saw her, she got up from her seat and put her hands out to touch. Jane couldn’t resist doing the same. “Don’t say anything, just listen,” Jane ordered kindly, heaving breath into Maura’s space and Maura sucking it up.

“Jane, I’m sorry too,” Maura immediately said, wanting everything to be over. When she saw Jane scramble into the hallway, she thought she saw a contrite version of her protector. She thought she saw Jane frantic with want, the same way she was after hours of fracture between them. 

“No, we don’t have much time, the head of internal affairs is on his way up here to get a statement from you about the shootings,” Jane barreled through, waving off Maura’s plea for intimacy. How could she give Maura intimacy if she couldn’t give her safety? She needed this first. 

“That’s it - That’s it? That’s all you have to say? No ‘I’m sorry your father is dying?’” Maura turned hard again. Cold.

Jane simmered in response. If Maura spurned her for Paddy one more time… “Oh so he’s your father now?” When Maura didn’t answer, she continued. “What, am I sorry that a man that’s wanted for 15 murders didn’t shoot me or Fr- no! I’m not!” The simmer raged into a full-blown boil.

“I’m not asking you to be sorry for what you did to him, I’m asking you to be sorry for how it’s making me feel. Something you did hurt me. Acknowledge that! You’re always so willing to make it up to me when you do it - what’s so different about now?” Maura said, but Jane was too pissed to hear it.

“I did what I had to do to protect myself and my partner. He would have killed me. I can’t make anything up to you ever again if Paddy Doyle puts me in the goddamn ground, Maura,” Jane spat. Maura had stepped away and Jane stepped boldly forward, followed, chased. “I’m not apologizing for shooting first.”

Maura’s gut clenched at the thought of Jane in the grave. Jane in the grave because of her father. She almost held onto that, almost let that be enough to absolve Jane of the petty knife she had just planted into Maura’s heart - but more than an uneasy gut, Maura felt primal anger at being left to stand alone with all of the uncertain agony of a brutalized mother and a dying father. “You’re not supposed to pick Dean over me. You’re not supposed to pick  _ a man _ over me!”

Again, there was the insinuation that she had failed to keep Maura out of danger, and it curdled Jane’s blood. “I-”

“Why are you even here?” Maura cut her off, now uninterested in anything she had to say.

“To warn you. Maura, if our friendship ever meant anything to you, will you  _ please  _ think before you answer the questions you’re about to be asked. Protect me-”

“Detective Rizzoli!” Connors and Cummings called her by her title in unison as they stalked toward her back.

“So I can keep protecting you. They’re doing an investigation, they’re building a case, they think I’m dirty,” Jane finished her demand of Maura before putting her hands on her belt and waiting for the coming IA storm. 

“Your contempt for the rules borders on criminal, Detective! You’re talking to a witness!” Connors shouted when Jane turned to him, now at Maura’s side, her shoulder placed conspicuously between Maura and Captain Connors. 

Maura looked down at that shoulder, level with the slender column of her own throat, and she surprised herself with the sudden burn of passion and possession inside of her, flowering all through her thorax and speeding below. It mixed itself with anger and she had a brief, engrossing desire to leash the war dog in front of her, the one always ready to tussle with the devil on her behalf. She thought of what it would feel like to control all that instinctual violence, to tug at Detective Rizzoli’s neck and bring her to submission, Detective Rizzoli who  _ always  _ stood between Chief Medical Examiner Isles and peril. “She was just asking about my father,” Maura lied again. Lying for Detective Rizzoli was easy, even when Jane refused to be good to Maura. 

In fact, Dr. Isles could think of a thousand lies to tell if it kept Detective Rizzoli potent in the way that she needed her to be.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This entire story was inspired by the scene in 3x01 when Jane looks at Paddy's drawing in Maura's dining room and says "This is cheery," in that East Coast accent. This chapter is the crux of that story.

"Maura here?" Jane sneaked through the back door of Maura's Beacon Hill home to find her mother making tea by the kitchen island.

Angela looked as haggard as Jane felt. She held her cardigan tight to her body and scrunched a tissue in her hand either from crying or from allergies. In mid-October, they both could be the culprit. Her long brown hair fell forward as she placed the kettle on the tray, obscuring her from view until Jane spoke. "No. Why are we whispering?" Angela asked her daughter, who then slunk in to stand right by the refrigerator.

Jane made a face that was supposed to look silly and convey an annoyed displeasure, but she couldn't hide the frown or the crinkled eyes near tears. "She wouldn't want me here, Ma. I did somethin' stupid."

"She'll get over it. She knows, deep down, that he's a bad man. She knows you did what you had to do to keep you and your partner safe," Angela shook her head. Jane could be so morose sometimes.

"No," Jane said, and the simplicity, the finality of it, scared Angela. "No, I said some things… some things I shouldn't have said, in the moment. I left her holding the bag."

"Well, why? When I had talked to her this afternoon, all she wanted to do was make up with you. Why didn't you make up?" Angela narrowed her brows in Jane's direction.

"I- I don't know. I got pissed. I got pissed that she was asking me to apologize for something I've been trained to do. And I was already mad from our argument and then IA being on my ass and-"

"Janie, Janie. Stop," Angela ordered when Jane started to go down the rabbit hole, "you're freakin' out."

Jane took a calming breath; it came out noisy and rickety through her nostrils when she exhaled. "It's just been a long day, huh? A real long day. And what's the point of going through a long day if Maura doesn't want me around at the end of it?"

Angela sighed. Dense – all of her children so dense. "You know, you're just like your father. You say grand, sweeping, romantic nonsense, but given the first chance to act on it, you both become raging assholes."

"Ma!"

"No, listen to me. You've put me through enough crap that I've earned at least that. All you had to do was tell Maura you're sorry," Angela shook her finger in Jane's face.

Jane took a step back. "But I'm not sorry! I just said that!" she shouted, an about-face from her timidity moments before.

"So lie!" Angela said through gritted teeth. "Would it kill you to just lie to make her feel better? I swear, that girl thinks the world of you – she thinks you're pretty and funny and smart and that you walk on water. Where she gets the notion, I don't know. All she wants you to do is take care of her. How hard is that?"

Jane turned dour again, scrunching up her face with a mix of stubbornness, pride, and loss. "Hard?" she winced.

"Ugh," Angela groaned. "You remember when you thought you and Becky Zisti were never gonna be friends again?"

Jane blinked, trying to recall. "I didn't shoot Becky Zisti's father, Ma," she said when she did.

Angela shook her head. Apparently nothing was sinking in tonight. She'd try sustenance instead. "You want some tea? It's from the Szechuan province. It gets its flavor from pandas."

Jane turned incredulous. "How does it get its flavor from pandas?"

"Maura says that the pandas fertilize the tea plants."

"That means they grow it in panda poop, Ma," Jane smirked, just because she loved to watch her mother squirm, happy for the distraction.

Angela did and then quickly switched gears again. "Oh – _oh._ You uh, you want me to fix you something? What do you feel like eating?"

Jane's eyes softened at Angela's attempt to cheer her up. And just about any other time, she would have picked food to do it. Today she just didn't feel like eating. "Nothin'."

Angela, moved, went in for the embrace. "Come on. It's gonna be ok."

"No no," Jane protested as she swooped left, "I don't want a hug."

"Alright, alright," Angela stepped back, "you better hug Maura when she comes home, though. I'm not letting you off the hook for that one."

Jane smiled sadly to herself at her mother's words as they both moved to the couch. Jane sat first, keyring still on her finger, knees bouncing and arms crossed over her chest.

Angela's heart ached to see her hurricane of a daughter so distraught. "Is it ok if I just pat your knee?"

"Knock yaself out," Jane said, in a totally unguarded moment of North End bravado. Angela secretly loved her children like this, talking like the people she grew up around. When Jane hid her accent to get ahead in the academy, to make detective, and then get promoted to homicide, it hurt Angela, though she'd never let Jane know. Jane bled New England red, and her real voice sounded like the coast, like Boston, like Angela's iron-worker father. Not many Jane had met after turning 16 heard it, and Angela tried to take a little comfort in being one of the few that knew how Jane actually talked.

She wondered if Maura knew, too. "You know," she started thoughtfully, "your father and I went to see a marriage counselor once."

Jane perked up. "Oh yeah?" she asked, her 'yeah' pinched and Italian-American.

"Mmhmm," Angela confirmed.

"Well, that was money well spent," snarked Jane.

Angela swatted her shoulder. "There was one thing that Dr. Becker made us do that worked for a little bit."

"S'that when you had Tommy?" Jane's smile was brilliant and wily. Angela blushed.

"For heaven's sake, Jane. We already had Tommy," she said. "Dr. Becker made us tell him the story about how we met."

Angela watched Jane struggle with emotion again, warring between the humor that so often shielded her from pain, the anger she clearly still harbored, and the sadness threatening to shine through. "M-Maura and I aren't a couple, Ma," said Jane finally, looking Angela in the eye, her face so debonair and dark when she felt things, when she cracked herself open to show _how much_ she truly felt.

Angela took Jane's face in her hands and couldn't stop herself from kissing a sharp cheekbone. "Do you know why you've always been a heartbreaker? Why people love you so much?"

Jane looked confused. "What're you talkin' about, Ma." It should have been a question, but it was a statement, a warning.

Angela pushed through anyway. "Because you care so damn much. And you have this raging Italian temper. It's hard to resist, Jane. And when you talk like that it makes it even harder."

"Talk like what?"

"Like Boston," Angela said, with an exaggerated second kiss. "You need to fix things when you mess them up."

Jane pulled away. "Maura doesn't know what I sound like," she felt the need to clarify. "And why do I gotta be the one to apologize all the time?" Suddenly she was engulfed in a hard hug. "Ma, stop! _Basta!_ "

"I'm not gonna stop hugging you until you tell me the story!" Angela yelped.

"Ok ok ok, get off," Jane waved at her. "I was in the drug unit-"

"I was so frightened when you were doing that work," Angela butted in, her voice quivering. Dramatic.

"If you interrupt, or hug, I'm done," said Jane. "So, when you're a girl doin' buy busts, you gotta be a hooker-"

"Mother of mercy, you didn't have to do that," Angela pleaded, as though Jane could go back in time and change it.

"Ma no, c'mon. I told you it was just my cover," Jane whined.

"Ok, ok."

"So I don't have any I.D., I don't have any money, I'm starvin'," started Jane, "and I'm tellin' Stanley that I'm good for it, right? And he sees it as his shot to get under my skin, pretend he doesn't know who I am. Treat me like shit for being a hooker, you know?"

"He's a jerk."

"A big one. So anyway, I'm standin' there in full getup, leather skirt and all, beggin' Stanley for day old coffee and stale donuts. I get my shots in, as I do-"

"As you do."

"Ma!"

"Sorry."

"He goes," at this, Jane readied her body to imitate Stanley by bringing her arms forward and taking on an absurdly deep voice, "' _I don't know anything about you, Tiffany.'_ So then, tryin' to be reasonable, you know, I tell him that I'll pick him up after my shift. This fucker-"

"Jane!"

"Sorry, this _guy_ has the nerve to say ' _you think you'll make that much?'_ And I'm just about ready to put the _malocchiu_ on him when Maura, sweet innocent Maura, bumps all these grizzled cops out of line to hand me a twenty. She put latex gloves on before she does it, mind you, but-"

"No she didn't!" Angela exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

Jane chuckled, too. "Oh yes, she did. So she's handing me the twenty and I bite her head off."

" _Janie_."

"I know, I know. I didn't know what was comin'. I tell her she can wait in line for her non-fat latte for a minute and she says," Jane paused for effect again, a master Italian storyteller in the tradition of her mother, her grandmother, her uncles, and her brothers. For Maura, she reserved a hyper-American accent and clean, crisp articulation. " _'No, it's for you. And given the vitamin D deficiency likely from your night work, you're better off with some plain yogurt and some leafy greens.'_ And of course I'm shittin' on Stanley's psoriasis and she's tellin' me the cause of it and all that so I go at her again with 'is rudeness contagious, too?' And she's like _'I was simply trying to be nice._ '"

"Poor baby," Angela pouted exaggeratedly. Part of the tradition is for the listener to participate, too, so she did.

Jane got energy from it and continued loudly. "I know. She didn't deserve it. But she got my ass back. I say to her, seriously, 'not every hooker has a heart of gold, a'right sistah?' Real masshole. And she says, ' _apparently not, sister_.'"

"She did get your ass good!" Angela guffawed again, literally slapping her knee. Jane's smile was wide again, eyes closed in mirth and the chance to get lost in the past.

* * *

Maura thought about Detective Rizzoli all the way home. She thought about how all the detectives on scene were just doing their jobs, and how she wanted to believe that of Jane, too, but she needed to ask. She needed to hear from Detective Rizzoli's mouth all the protocols, the possibilities, the decision-making that all coalesced around the clearly inevitable tragedy of her father lying face up and unable to move in a burned-down factory.

Ironically, as she squeezed and turned her grip on her steering wheel, Maura realized that driving a car was the closest she would ever come to the power and the burden of having someone else's life in your hands. She'd never point a government-issue firearm at the suspect of a crime and have to choose whether or not to blow them away. All she would do is make tiny choices along each street to follow the arbitrary rules of the road and not crash her multi-thousand-pound machine into someone else.

She could not know what choices her colleagues had to make, what had to run through their heads, every time they decided to take that shot. So, as she maneuvered her Prius slowly, measuredly, through the streets of Beacon Hill, she resolved to get answers. She would pick the brain of Detective Rizzoli in order to understand why Doyle had to end up paralyzed. Why was there no other way? The only thing Maura knew was that Detective Rizzoli made no mistakes - not when it came to situations like this. She was brash and she reacted poorly to incompetence, but she was lightning on her feet. Faced with the entrance of an unknown variable like Agent Dean into the fray, she would bounce back quickly enough for none of them to notice she had been off-kilter. Maura resonated with this, the competence and the professionalism.

In contrast, Jane was someone Maura could not understand: a best friend who betrayed Maura's family secrets for a man and who refused to comfort her when she needed it most. Jane could go to hell. But Detective Rizzoli dealt with plans and consequences and could compartmentalize. Detective Rizzoli could explain the rationale behind the chaos. She could illuminate what felt so murky and unknowable to Maura.

So, when she saw Detective Rizzoli at work next, they _would_ be discussing it.

* * *

It wasn't for long that Jane and Angela would smile together because the front door opened and closed in the midst of their shared laugh.

Maura walked in. She seemed tired, too, just like Jane and Angela, but her face turned cold when she saw the two of them so warm and relaxed on her couch. "You shouldn't be here, not while they're investigating."

"Why? What did you say to Connors?" Jane asked, "because it's none of his business where I spend my evenings."

Maura shook her head in sarcastic gravity, as though she was seriously considering what she could and could not say to her best friend. To Jane. "I… well, you know I can't say anything," Maura said to get Jane back, to get under her skin, revenge for the lack of arms around her. Jane hated to be left out of the loop. And after all she had done to keep Maura in the loop regarding Doyle and his whereabouts over the past two years, when he would be in town, Maura knew that she deserved to know what Connors knew. That is, Detective Rizzoli deserved to know. Jane did not. So she'd keep it to herself.

"Ma, get your stuff," Jane commanded, suddenly all ire.

"Jane Clementine Rizzoli," Angela warned.

Jane's face opened up in mortification. She looked from Angela to Maura then back again.

Maura asked, "wait - your middle name is Clementine?" It was a rare moment that broke the hostility, but not for long.

"Thank you, thank you very much for that," Jane chastised in a throaty Bostonian, uncaring what the ramifications would be for her audience of two. She stayed in her home accent for the rest of her statement, too. "Ya not stayin' here anymore."

Maura and Angela both whipped their heads toward Jane in disbelief. "What? This isn't necessary," argued Maura.

"Ah what - because your family is so screwed up that now ya need mine?" Jane was unleashed now. She stood in the living room fully herself - unbridled and enraged. She looked for the thing that would sting Maura the most. "What?" she prodded when she saw Angela shaking her head, "You're the one who always says that blood is thicker than water so - choose."

Angela closed her eyes in shame, shame that her daughter could be so cruel. That Jane would wrest everything from Maura that she needed in this moment - a stable home, a loving family - shocked her.

"Hello," Jane snarked when Angela just pursed her lips to Maura in contrition and didn't answer. "That's water," she said, pointing to Maura, "I'm blood." When Angela stood still, she threw up her hands in defeat. "Ok you know what? Suit yaself. Sit here, together, and drink ya excrement tea." With that she was on her way to the door.

Maura, for a split second, seemed frantic at the loss. That's when Angela knew that she had to follow Jane - she had to get out from between the middle of them, at least for the night, or they were going to do heavy, lasting damage to each other. "Jane," she called after her daughter, "wait." When Jane turned around and crossed her arms, she spoke again. "I'm just uh, gonna get showered and pack a few things," this time she looked at Maura with a quivering lip and a wet voice.

Maura nodded as though she understood. As though to say, _I am used to being the second choice._

Angela hated that. She hated the look Maura sometimes got that communicated the constant rejection in her life. She looked up at the drawing mounted on Maura's wall of a woman crying at a grave, and it resonated with her in the moment, the way her heart grieved for all of Maura's missed opportunities for love.

"Angela, wait," Maura said as she took the drawing off the wall. "Take it. I've always hated it. My mother won't notice it's gone, either."

Jane sighed at the moment they were sharing. "Jesus, Ma, hurry it up."

"You're like my daughter, too," Angela whispered to Maura, intentionally ignoring Jane, refusing to show her obstinate daughter the tears running down her cheeks. Maura looked at Angela in confusion and hope when the older woman took her into her arms for a hug. "Come get me in an hour, Jane. Stay here, drive around the block, get something to eat, I don't care. I just need some time to get ready."

Maura nearly collapsed when she felt the intimacy of Angela's hand on her head as they embraced, and it gave her strength as Angela walked away and out the door to her guesthouse. Jane stood open and angry in the living room behind her and flinched when Maura spun around to direct a glare her way. "You and me. Upstairs. Now. We need to talk."

"The hell we do," Jane's lip curled in a very ancient show of aggression. "I'm gonna go wait in the car for Ma," she said and turned on her heels.

Maura caught her right arm and yanked her back. "Now," she reiterated.

Jane couldn't resist the insistence in Maura's touch as she tugged her blazer sleeve toward the stairs. The pull was hard and uncompromising. It bent her spine low enough that her head was level with Maura, and she stumbled up the first couple of stairs. It was easiest to just pull her arm down to lace her fingers roughly with Maura's, and that gave her her height back.

Maura felt Jane's erect shadow rise behind her as they ascended the stairs now hand in hand, Jane's eyes only on the high slit of her skirt. And then, suddenly Maura was acutely aware that the ghost of Detective Rizzoli had entered the room, the way her gaze attempted to deduct and to unravel the mystery of Maura's legs - she was haunting even in her diminished, off-the-clock form. Commanding, unyielding. With that information, Maura realized that she could interrogate her _now,_ and not have to wait for the next morning in the office. She made the very conscious decision not to break the physical bond that had formed between them until they had reached the privacy of her bedroom.

"I'm going to ask you some questions and you need to listen to me," Maura instructed, their hands now apart, the door now closed.

"Listen Maura," Jane replied, and then she was Jane again with her slumped shoulders and the darkness around her eyes. "I'm tired. It's been a long-ass day. I know I fucked up at the hospital but I don't think I have the-"

"Shh, stop," Maura whispered harshly.

This irked Jane. "Did you just shush me? After you told me we needed to talk? _Really?"_

"I also said you needed to listen to me first. I don't care what your excuse is or how long of a day you had because mine has been worse, I guarantee you."

"Just because you're… _rightly_ upset doesn't mean I-"

"And I don't have the capacity for that conversation either right now," Maura barreled right over Jane, unwilling to cede any ground. Unwilling to hear anything Jane might have to say to soften her heart. "So we're not going to talk about it. I need you to walk me through what happened."

Jane scoffed and her mouth was slack with confusion. "What?"

"The procedure. From start to finish. Explain it to me - why your bullet ended up in my father," Maura elaborated, though she seemed loath to do so, like she thought Jane was daft for asking.

"Maura, I-"

"Pretend we're at work. Pretend Dr. Isles has just asked Detective Rizzoli this question about a case with no personal ties. What do you say? Because I'm struggling to understand. But I want to believe that you did the right thing."

They stood near Maura's low and long mahogany dresser, the one Jane had a plethora of things on - extra badge clips, chapsticks, a few pairs of clean socks next to Maura's immaculate collection of expensive jewelry, much to Maura's chagrin. They both turned their gazes to Jane's pile and then back at each other.

Jane saw Maura's annoyance ratchet up even further. Maura had never been this annoyed at Jane. It wrecked her. "Maura, like you said: you want me to apologize for hurting your feelings, not for what I did, so why are we even doin' this?" Jane whined, her pout so close to Maura's lips as they struggled to see each other in the dark.

"Don't bring Jane in here," Maura spat, instantly livid, "fuck Jane. I have some things I need to hash out with Detective Rizzoli. Jane is absurd and immature. At least Detective Rizzoli and I can speak like adults."

Jane grunted in her own anger. She ripped her gun and her badge away from her belt and threw them into an empty dresser drawer. The resulting _smack_ of wood on wood as the drawer slammed shut made them both jump. "Oh fuck Jane, huh? Fuck me? I'll show ya fuckin' Detective Rizzoli. Is that who you want to come out and play?" Jane shouted. She didn't bother to hide her accent and it came out husky, raw.

As Jane grabbed her by both arms, Maura's fear response skyrocketed. Her heart thrummed in her chest and her hands flushed with sweat. Her stomach flipped mercilessly and for a moment, she wondered what Jane was about to do to her, if Jane was about to hurt her.

But it was only a moment. Her ass thudded against the top of the low dresser and Jane was ripping her blouse roughly from its tuck. Then, Jane was kissing her hard enough to feel teeth behind her lips. Jane stunned Maura when she shoved her blazer down her shoulders, and she stayed stunned until Jane's hands grabbed at her hips in frustration.

Maura then took action. She unzipped her skirt and pushed up on her hands so that Jane could tug it away from her body. Somehow she managed to kick off her boots, and when Jane yanked her blouse over her head and she sat there in only her lingerie, she pulled Jane in for another kiss. They groped for each other's tongues, Maura's hands scratching roughly at the sides of Jane's face, her teeth dragging Jane's upper lip between them as if to communicate exactly what she wanted. She put shaky hands on the buckle of Jane's belt and pulled it so hard that Jane lurched forward and yelped. Jane responded by sliding all her fingers through the front of Maura's thong and winding it tight around her right palm, pulling it far from Maura's body and simultaneously bringing Maura closer to her. Maura bucked her legs open and when Jane saw the bare and wet slit between them, she knocked her forehead to Maura's and closed her eyes. The gulp was audible.

"You better fuck me like a cop," Maura threatened Jane, "not like my best friend. Otherwise you'll never see it again."

Jane went hard again with her plunging brow and exposed teeth. "You're real fuckin' audacious, you know that?" She asked Maura, who kicked Jane's slacks down around her ankles with her feet, leaving Jane in only her black boyshorts and a puddle of material around her ankles that were still in boots. From the waist up, she still had on her blazer and her t-shirt, as though she could get called out to work any second. "I'll see it whenever I want."

That made Maura want to scream, the way Jane acted like she owned her, but what pulled the actual scream from her lips were two of Jane's fingers deep inside of her, without notice. Jane pushed her wrist forward with her hips and pulled Maura closer with the makeshift bind of Maura's underwear in her hand.

She crossed her eyes at the way Maura's body squeezed wetly around her fingers, moaned thickly when Maura noticed and then squeezed on purpose. "You like that," Maura stated, confidently, then did it again. The hot pressure brought Jane stumbling forward and into another kiss.

They continued shamelessly in the loud smack of lips against lips and fingers between hips, and Jane loved the sound of them together both above and below. "Put your leg on my shoulder," she demanded, and Maura complied without complaint. Soon Maura realized why they switched positions when her underwear fluttered over her pointed foot and Jane added a third finger inside and a thumb where Maura needed pressure the most.

Jane gave and Maura accepted for long minutes, each moving to keep the pace between them as they hurried Maura to orgasm. Jane's panting so close to her ear when she finally dropped her leg back down drove Maura crazy, made her frenzied for the primal closeness they were building. She could see the ache in Jane's arm as it pleasured her and she grabbed it, rubbing the muscles deeply to encourage their finish. "Almost there," she moaned into the side of Jane's face, kissing her sloppily, openly, right where jawbone met ear, "find that stroke."

Jane, adept at finding the stroke all on her own and needing no encouragement, chuckled. She switched back to two fingers and curled up four, five, six times, all while keeping her thumb pad moving in tight circles, and watched Maura fight climax as long as she could.

"Shit, _shit,_ " Maura finally shrieked. She bit hard on Jane's shoulder as she rode out her wave.

"Ow, fuck," said Jane loudly, a mixture of aroused and displeased.

"Sorry," Maura said through a smirk, though clearly not sorry at all. She winced when Jane pulled out but didn't waste any time dismounting her dresser and shoving Jane towards the armchair near the window of her bedroom. Because her pants were still around her ankles, Jane stumbled back until she plopped down into the seat. "Trust me," Maura prefaced, "you're going to want my mouth."

Jane only nodded, Maura clearly in control now. "I do trust you, doctor," she managed to tease, but then her underwear joined her pants and Maura was spreading her knees. A tongue ran through her heat and her arms instantly shot out against the length of the chair, knuckles white from gripping the edges. She slumped down and spread her legs as wide as her slacks would allow, indulging in the wet hot feeling of getting licked to oblivion. " _Fuck,_ Maura," she said, all New England in the way fuck sounded so raw and _Maura_ sounded almost like _Mara._

In response, Maura flattened her tongue and moved in broad strokes against the whole length of Jane's sex before she poked her head up. "Is this a bedroom thing? Or is this what you actually sound like?"

Jane was perturbed, distraught. "What're you stoppin' for?" She griped, shoving Maura down by the back of her head. Maura punished her by biting her. Hard. "Ouch, shit!" When Maura's eyes looked up expectantly but her tongue soothed where she had sunk her teeth, Jane melted back into the chair, eyes closed. "You're just getting me, babe. I'm too tired, too keyed up to pretend right now."

Maura softened at the words and she gave Jane over to orgasm as a reward. Jane bucked and groaned, leaning forward and putting both hands on the sides of Maura's head as she finished and then collapsed backwards.

Maura climbed up and straddled Jane soon after, and they kissed long and slow and salacious. "I like the way you talk when you aren't trying to be someone else, Detective."

"Maura," Jane growled, thumbs running over the underside of Maura's lacy bra on her sides, with Maura's hands wound up in the lapel of her jacket, "I'm off the clock. Lemme be me, like you said. I wanna talk about this, about what happened between us."

Maura turned stiff in her hands and broke them apart mid-kiss. "Absolutely not. I told you who you needed to be for me in here. And who was _not_ allowed. Are you ready to talk about why you had to make the decision to shoot Paddy?"

Jane moaned and tried to bury her face in Maura's chest. "No, I just want to take off my clothes and sleep. With you." When she felt Maura trying to extract herself from their entanglement, she changed course. "And apologize for what I said."

"Then you need to get the hell out of my room, Jane," Maura said, appalled that Jane had not listened to her. She got up and went straight for the robe draped across the made bed.

"Wait, really?" Jane, shocked, rubbed her hands over her face, eyes still adjusting to the dark. "Maura, we just-"

"Yes, really. I told you, fuck you. I'm not talking to you about this. You need to leave," Maura ordered as she cinched her robe tight. "Unless you're willing to give me your detective's rationale for all of it, you have to go."

"Jesus," Jane cursed. She got up from the chair and pulled her pants back up as she rose, shoving the tooth of her belt through its hole with vigor. "A'right then. I'm outta here. And I'm taking my mother."

Maura stood firm as Jane got in this last jab and grabbed her gun and badge from the dresser. She waited for Jane to slam the door and trot angrily down the stairs before she began to tremble.


	6. Chapter 6

Jane had to get out of the house. She made no stops between Maura's bedroom and the door to the courtyard, and she didn't take a breath until the crisp night air hit her cheeks. Then, when Boston was on her body again, and not Maura, she could stand up a little straighter. She had to compose herself before she knocked on her mother's door, so she shook out her shoulders and ran her hand through her hair.

It didn't really matter. When Angela opened up, she gasped. "What happened to you? Run into a raccoon on your way here?" she was mad at Jane, too, and her hard stare matched her accusatory tone. She gestured to the entirety of Jane's person.

"What? No," Jane replied, "I waited for you in the car."

Angela detected the lie easily. "Ok," she pretended to accept it. "Then why do you look like that?"

"Like what?" Jane pressed, arms out wide so she could look down at herself. "This is what I was wearing an hour ago!"

"Yeah," Angela conceded, "but you look like you just fell out of a tree. Your shirt's untucked and your pants are wrinkled all to hell. Not to mention your jacket collar's all messed up. Here," she stepped forward to fix it, quicker than Jane who stepped back reflexively, but Angela stopped when she smelled it. _Ah._ Jane smelled like sweat and a particular mix of a few other things that Angela knew distinctly as sex. She put her hands up in an attempt to save both of their dignity. "Alright, suit yourself. You wanna look like a ragamuffin, go ahead."

Jane watched the minute changes on her mother's face until it settled into resignation. "Somethin' you wanna share with the class?"

Angela obfuscated. "You were mean, Janie. You were cruel," she said.

"Get ya stuff, Ma," Jane refused the conversation. "I'm tired and I need to go home."

"Ok," said Angela quietly, head full of questions, but heart knowing better than to push Jane into an argument. Given Jane's current volatility, it would erupt into ugliness quickly. So, she turned, grabbed her weekend suitcase from near her couch, and locked the door behind her.

They moved slowly from the guesthouse to the car out front on the street, Jane's hips metronoming tiredly as she walked. Others saw a cowboy march born of overconfidence, but her mother knew the truth, that Jane's legs and back had taken a beating over her years of sports and police work and that her gait hid a lot of pain. Angela put a steadying hand just above her daughter's behind just before Jane bent down to pop the trunk of her car. She grabbed the keys and opened the trunk herself, throwing her bag in. "Thanks," Jane said quietly. "I'll carry it up the stairs for ya."

Angela waved her off. "Where am I sleeping?" Jane opened the door for her and she got in.

"The couch," said Jane, shrugging and then slamming the passenger door.

When she fell into the driver's seat and put her seatbelt on, she was assaulted by Angela's umbrage. "The couch? Your couch is like a plank. I'm 56 years old, Jane."

"And?" Jane asked as she pulled away. "That's the only place there is to sleep."

"You made me leave my luxuriana mattress for a couch? Your couch? You made me pick a side between you and Maura for that?"

"Yeah yeah, I know," was all Jane said in response as they approached Jane's neighborhood.

* * *

Maura rolled her eyes at her bed, as though the notion of sleep itself were absurd. She would not sleep, at least not now, because the past twenty-four hours played on loop in her photographic memory.

At the forefront of all of it, from morning until moments before, was Jane. Infuriating and irrational Jane. Sexy, infuriating, irrational, explosive Jane. If she were honest with herself, Maura knew that kissing Jane was inevitable. Eventually. She found Jane wildly attractive, tall and lithe and so deep voiced. Jane found her wildly attractive, too, whether she'd admit it or not. Jane liked that Maura fit against her masculinity with a refined and soft femininity. Jane liked the contrast between them, Jane liked that Maura wanted to be taken care of, wanted to be held, wanted doors opened for her and someone to protect her. Jane also liked that Maura paralleled her in competence and skill. Maura wanted Jane to treat her like a genius, and she wanted to treat Jane the same.

Jane did all of those things for Maura. So of course they would kiss. _Eventually._ But having sex, having angry sex? That was… confusing. Maura had imagined what Jane would feel like against her, repeatedly. But, the fantasy never included clothes or cussing each other out. It never included kicking Jane out of her room in a rush, or hating Jane after she left. Most times, the fantasy didn't include Jane leaving at all.

And at that thought, the reason that Jane left was all the hurtful context of the storm around them. At the hospital, when Jane had bounded over to her out of breath and afraid, they had circled around reconciliation. _So close._ Maura thought that they might have kissed then, actually, the way Jane looked so hurt and Maura wanted so badly for Jane to gather her up in her arms. But then IA clapped down between them like lightning, driving them apart and on opposite sides of a particularly ugly war.

IA thought Jane was dirty.

IA thought Jane was dirty because of Maura. IA wasn't wrong, either, because Jane was a little bit dirty for Maura - keeping tabs on Doyle for her, letting her know when he was in town without putting out a BOLO, not informing the brass about Doyle's movements when he returned to South Boston. Maura had been so wrapped up in her father and their relationship when these things happened, that she hadn't considered the ramifications for her best friend if IA were ever to sniff around, or if brass ever caught Jane in the act.

Maura still shivered with rage when she thought about how Jane had chosen her ego over Maura's comfort, when that had never happened before. She never prioritized colleagues, men, the job, _anything_ over Maura. She never withheld what Maura needed in the exact moment that she needed it, and she had never refused to apologize so vehemently before. At least not with Maura. With Maura, Jane usually exuded kindness in addition to her strength. She usually exuded passion and a very addicting kind of unconditional love that sought to fulfill Maura's every desire as she experienced them.

Jane spoiled her, and very rarely treated her like shit.

And that was what was so infuriating to Maura when she boiled all of it down to its most essential parts - while Detective Rizzoli did what she could with the cards she was dealt, Jane made error after selfish error in how she handled Maura after the shooting. Jane and Detective Rizzoli were of course helplessly entangled, being different facets of the same person, but Jane perpetrated the worst of the damage against Maura, even if Detective Rizzoli pulled the trigger.

Maura felt truly conflicted because of this. She respected Detective Rizzoli and her ability to do the job better than any of the other cops in their orbit. But Detective Rizzoli might lose her job because Jane's love for Maura had bled through into Detective Rizzoli's actions, or lack thereof, when it came to Paddy Doyle. So, as she walked down her stairs, switching on lights as she went, she resolved to make things right. Tit for tat, she reasoned. If Detective Rizzoli was going to lose the thing that made her most happy besides Maura, her job, and if she was going to lose Maura too, Dr. Isles might as well repay the favor. She pulled out her laptop and began to draft a resignation letter.

* * *

Jane awoke gradually, grumpily, to hands in her hair. For a moment, in her sleep-soaked brain, she imagined that Maura had made it into her bed, she must have - why else would a very distinctly feminine hand be caressing her head so shortly after they angrily found their way to each other? The thought, again just for a moment, titillated her and she stretched before she turned over, ready to say all the words that Maura had made her swallow last night.

She gasped when she saw her mother's face instead. "Ma, what're you doin' in my bed?" she groaned, and turned over to stretch more fully into her pillow. Both she and Angela winced when several of her vertebrae popped in response.

"That couch feels like a sack of marbles," Angela complained, trying to snuggle closer to her daughter.

Jane stiff-armed her and then pulled away. "Get out!" she whined, still hoarse from slumber. She shut her eyes and begged sleep to return, or, at least for her mother to magically disappear.

"Again, a luxuriana mattress. I could have been in my own bed! I'm staying here with you to get this kinda treatment?!" Angela huffed as she threw back the covers and stomped toward the door.

"Ma, I'm sorry," Jane said, turning over again. She opened her eyes and saw that Angela had gotten up. "I'm sorry. Ma? Ma! C'mon."

"Too little too late, Janie," Angela shouted with her back to the bed. "I'm not talking to you until you tell me exactly what the hell is going on."

Jane froze. "Whattaya mean, 'what the hell is goin' on?'"

"Between you and Maura!" Angela threw up her hands as if it were obvious.

"I'm not sure that's any of your-"

But before Jane could finish, Angela plowed on. "I don't understand why you two just blew up at each other! When I talked to her yesterday, she wanted to put everything behind you. And now you're making me abandon her."

"I'm not making you abandon her," Jane said through a sigh of relief at the conversation she had narrowly avoided, "I'm not sayin' you can't see her or talk to her. But she's holding back from me when what she knows could mean my job, Ma. She's withholding stuff from me when she knows that whatever information she has could help me beat this 'dirty cop' ordeal. She's doin' it to be petty."

"And why is she doing that, huh?" Angela volleyed, still turned around. "What did you do to make such a timid, sweet girl so angry? Because we all know you're the queen of petty."

"If I tell you, will you stop fighting with me?" Jane asked, uncharacteristically. She sounded so exhausted and so defeated that Angela almost ceded ground and went to her.

"Yes," said Angela instead, turning around.

"She wanted me to apologize for hurting her feelings and I said no. I defended this guy I'd been seeing to her. I stuck up for him and what he did to Doyle instead of taking her side."

"Well, that's stupid," Angela said quietly, surprised by her daughter's emotional perception and forthrightness. "Never pick a guy over your best friend."

"I know that now," Jane replied. "To be honest I knew it then, too. And I also know that my really, really, sweet mother left the comforts of her free Beacon Hill guesthouse to come stay with me in my crappy little apartment because she loves me."

"Yes, I do," Angela affirmed. She melted. "See what I mean? Grand, sweeping, romantic nonsense. Both you and your father. But I fall for it every time," she said as she went back to Jane and leaned in for a hug and a kiss.

"No, no hugging. No hugging," Jane swatted her away, but with a sad smile on her face. "Can you convince Maura to fall for it? It'd make my life a lot easier."

"I don't think I need to," Angela said cryptically. She had her own smile on her face, but Jane couldn't place it. "Now get ready. I'm sure you've got a lot to do at work today."

Jane assented with a shrug. Another shower and a change of clothes would at least give her more resemblance to her real self.

When she finally exited her bathroom, fully dressed, hair styled, perfume spritzed, she groaned at the sight of her little brother at the counter. "The hell are you doin' here?"

"I always have breakfast at Ma's house when I do midnights," Frankie said, his uniform unbuttoned, exposing a starched white undershirt.

Jane's first few buttons on her maroon oxford were unbuttoned, too, revealing the tanned skin of her chest. "This isn't Ma's house."

"No, thanks to you, she's crashing on that piece of plywood you call a couch," Frankie snarked. Angela flipped eggs at the small stove to the right of her children as they bickered.

"Oh thanks to me? I didn't see you step up and help her out when Dad left," Jane bit back.

"Ok can you two argue after we've had breakfast?" Tried Angela, never really able to contain her two eldest when they fought.

Jane smirked and snatched the omelette off of Frankie's plate, taking a huge bite before shoving it in a tupperware.

"Oh nice manners!" Frankie shouted with his hands outstretched, pointing to Jane in the Italianest way he could muster. "Your mother would be so proud."

"No she wouldn't!" Angela responded, waving the spatula at Jane. All three of them turned when there was a knock on the door.

Jane scrunched her face at her family and then marched over to her door, swinging it open, half-expecting to see Maura.

Instead it was Gabriel Dean. "I thought flowers would be better than a greeting card," he said in a bout of self-deprecating humor, dressed in his work suit and with his longish brown hair in his eyes.

"Bye Rizzolis," Jane gruffed, and then shoved Dean out into the hall. "Flowers are better," she said, in a soft voice for the man that had shared her bed only a few nights before, and it sounded more like sympathy than attraction.

"Yeah?" he asked, hopeful.

But Jane had somewhere to be and someone else to think about. "Yeah. But I'm not doing this right now," she said. She sounded professional and very nondistinct. American, but not regional. "I can't do this with you. I don't have the bandwidth right now. You betrayed my confidence in a moment when I needed you to be just a man."

"Jane, like I said, I-"

"And a real man doesn't sell out his potential girlfriend for professional gain. He just doesn't. A real man keeps things said to him in confidence, confidential. A real man steps up when the woman who needs him asks for his help, or asks for his time. Don't call me, alright?" she explained, and then that was it. She touched his arm gently, the way a doctor or a lawyer might deliver bad news. She left for the station hoping never to see him again.

* * *

Jane stood impatiently behind Dr. Pike as she waited for her confirmed cause of death for Wally Wisniewski. To her it was clear, with the giant holes in his front and back, but if Maura had beat one thing into her, it was that you didn't rush the science. "Pretty sure his dental work didn't kill him," she said. Pike missed the sarcasm, but Frost, who had just walked in to stand next to her, did not. "If we could just, uh, get that bullet," she finished in an exaggerated newscaster type of hum.

"You cannot rush these things," warned Pike, echoing Jane's thoughts. He turned away from Wally's teeth and moved to turn him on his side. Wally, a long time cop recently transferred to evidence management, had been shot in a liquor store not far from the Whistler Factory just the day before. And Jane needed to figure out why in order to get her mind off the shit storming raging around her.

"Thought you said the cause of death was 'quite clear,'" Frost quipped in an especially snooty mockery of Pike. His Rs and his inflection became quite defined, took on the curves of erudition.

"I guess you're used to the antiquated methods of my predecessor," Pike insulted Maura, still unaware of the teasing going on behind him.

This made Jane stiff with rage, barely subdued from the night before, this time flared by Pike and the audacity of his thought that he could be anywhere _near_ Maura in skill or anatomical prowess. She contained it for the sake of her investigation. "Could be, yes. You know, I've never said it before," she paused, to create anticipation and to rein her emotions in, "but I'm a very big fan of your work, Dr. Pike."

"You are?" Pike and Frost asked in unison, both flabbergasted.

"I-I am, yes. And it would help us enormously in this very important case if you could remove that bullet so that we could run it through ballistics," Jane replied. Frost raised his eyebrow at her particularly white-sounding statement. Jane winked at him before Pike turned to face them.

"Of course I can do that for you, Detective Rizzoli," he said, stupidly oblivious to her manipulation, "what a mess this place is."

Jane scoffed sarcastically and then shot Frost a _please help_ eye roll, until she noticed Pike grabbing the forceps to remove the bullet. "Um, aren't… aren't you… aren't you gonna use your fingers?" she asked, barely containing her panic.

"Forceps can leave tool impressions," Frost explained, "kinda messes with ballistics."

"Of course I wasn't going to use the forceps," Pike flubbed. He turned Wally over and fished for the bullet with his fingers.

"Think anybody would notice if there was suddenly another corpse down here?" Frost asked Jane. She almost laughed but they were both too annoyed.

"Excellent work, if I do say so myself," Pike patted himself on the back when he handed Jane the bullet in its rightful container.

Jane smiled with her lips closed. "Thank you. Pretty big bullet. For a .38," she teased, bringing up Pike's assumption from the crime scene the day before.

"Obviously a .45," he corrected her. He rolled his eyes at her as he returned to the body.

"Obviously," Frost jabbed.

Jane went to hand him the bullet, and as she did, she saw Maura bluster into her office from the window of the autopsy suite. She looked possessed, moving about with purpose and speed. She also looked good, Jane thought, with her hair styled and her light make-up done just right, and her flawless pairing of a black sweater and white slacks. _Jesus._ She needed to get it together. "Would you, ah, run that to ballistics for me, please?" she said to Frost without tearing her eyes from the window. The _fah_ instead of _for_ just slipped out.

Frost smiled because of course he caught it. "Sure," he said, "I'll stop at Dunkie's on the way back. You take a lahge regulah?"

"Shut up," Jane replied with a smile in return, though it was a little sad. She slipped back into Detective Rizzoli speak. "Text me when you have something."

He nodded and left her. It could not have been soon enough - she rolled her shoulders back to stifle the urge to run into Maura's office. Instead, she leaned cooly against the threshold. "You're back."

"Did you ever return my book 'soothing paint choices for the home?'" Maura asked in return, her back still facing Jane.

Jane scrunched her face in confusion at the non-sequitur. "Yeah, long time ago, right after Ma tried to paint my apartment begonia," Jane said. "So… you're back."

"That's odd, because I can't seem to find it," Maura snarked.

"Did you ever return my 'guns of the world digest'?" Two could play.

"I _always_ return the things I borrow," Maura said seriously.

"Are you sure?" Jane let her accent slip a little bit and that made Maura whip around. She felt the pull of Jane but managed to reroute herself at the last second.

"Maybe you lost it. You do lose things," she said as she turned back to her desk to look at her very regular, very non-disturbed office chair. Her last statement was too intimate and she knew it as soon as she said it. There were phantom tastes of Jane on her tongue and phantom flexes of Jane's fingers inside of her.

Jane saw. She saw and she latched onto it by entering Maura's space. "Yeah, I lost you."

Maura ignored that, but only barely. What had Angela told her about Jane once? _Grand, sweeping, romantic nonsense._ She had to hold onto that idea now. "We're not doing this here."

"I told him to go to hell, Maura," said Jane. "In maybe a little bit nicer terms. I told him to never call me again."

"Who?" Maura played dumb.

"Dean," Jane explained. She took the bait.

"Well, the damage has already been done. So if you want to see him, you should. What more harm could it cause?" Maura said. She poked at Jane and it worked.

"Really? After last night that's what you're gonna say to me?" Jane was shocked. Her eyes widened and her back straightened.

"I said, we're not doing this here," Maura reiterated. "And I didn't exactly initiate last night."

"Well you didn't exactly stop it, either," Jane pointed out. "What happened?"

Maura shrugged. "You and I had sex. It was a mistake; we should not have done that."

"That's bullshit and you know it, Maura," Jane said, raising her voice. "I mean, it was good. And then you bit my head off after. What the hell."

Maura marched toward Jane with an outstretched finger. "Are you serious? You insisted on doing the opposite of what I asked you to do. I didn't take you up to my room to fuck, I took you up there so we could have a private conversation."

"Well we ended up fucking anyway!" Jane whispered with enough decorum to keep it at least a little quiet. "And when I tried having a conversation with you, you shut me down. Kicked me out!"

"I asked you to tell me about what factors made the shooting of Doyle, his near death, necessary," Maura returned, "and you wanted to talk about how shitty you were to me at the hospital."

"Yeah, to apologize," Jane shouted. "I wanted to apologize for being an asshole to you."

At this, Pike began to move toward the office, interest piqued and phone out.

"And I don't care! That's not what I wanted to know! I wanted to know how you justified shooting my father!" Maura matched Jane's energy and they were both gesticulating freely now.

"I just find it rich that he's your fucking father now," Jane mused sarcastically, "but he wasn't when he was just the guy who was wanted for 15 murders. You know, just fuckin' 48 hours ago."

"I'm glad you think you're so witty," Maura said as she spotted Pike entering the threshold.

"Well I'd rather be witty than fuckin' poindexter the know-it-all," Jane spat back.

Maura glared severely to keep from crying. "Well, _I'd_ rather be poindexter the know-it-all than the hoi polloi," she said. She knew Jane wouldn't know what that meant, and therefore she knew how to hit Jane where it hurt the most: bringing up all the education she didn't have.

"Good one, Maura," Jane replied lamely.

"You don't even know what it means," Maura said, walking past Jane for a file, saying the quiet part out loud to be extra mean.

"It means common," Pike offered. He stood out awkwardly amongst all the passion between them flooding the room. "The literal translation is 'the great unwashed.'"

"Classy," Jane growled, feeling doubly insulted, "hide ya insults in Latin."

"It's Greek."

"Oh yeah, the geek that knows Greek," Jane said, hunting for revenge, "Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? You know, people laugh at you behind your back." Pike walked behind her, making a call on his phone to the brass upstairs and then turning it sideways to get a better video of the two of them.

Maura gasped before she recovered. "Oh yeah? Well people call you a bitch behind yours."

Jane raised an eyebrow. She was impressed that Maura could go toe to toe with her for this long. "Well damn. At least when my father gets pissed off he doesn't stab people with an ice pick!"

"Well at least _my_ father didn't move to Florida to sleep with some floozy he met at a pizza parlor!"

"Maura," warned Jane, her family a boundary that should not be crossed.

"Or was it a massage parlor?" but Maura was far beyond the point of reason or of no return. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Jane as if to say _oh well_.

"Oh fuck you!" Jane shouted, reduced only to cursing, when Lieutenant Cavanaugh barged into the office straight off the elevator. Captain Connors tailed right behind him.

"Break it up, ladies!" Cavanaugh yelled, "What's goin' on here?"

"What the hell's goin' on in your house, Lieutenant?" Connors shouted from behind him, pointing right at Jane.

"I've got it under control," Cavanaugh responded with an unusual amount of calm.

"I can see that - a homicide detective and a medical examiner having a cat fight that needs police intervention!" Connors exclaimed.

Maura opened her mouth to apologize for the unprofessionalism when that strong shoulder showed up in front of her again, the same way it did the first time she encountered Connors.

"A cat fight?" Jane roared as she half-shielded Maura from the men in the room, "did you _really_ just call a disagreement between female colleagues a cat fight?!"

Maura put a hand on Jane's shoulder in an old artefact of calming affection. "Actually, aggression between two females is-"

"God dammit - stop!" Jane turned her head and whispered harshly to Maura.

"I want Detective Rizzoli placed on leave," said Connors.

"I'll go one step better. Rizzoli, I'm transferring you out of homicide," Cavanaugh ordered.

"What?!" both Jane and Maura gasped, and when she flushed with shame for being the reason why Jane had just lost her spot in homicide, instantly Maura remembered why she had come into the office. She reached into her bag for the envelope she had placed in it that morning.

"You got thirty seconds to get your ass over to evidence management," said Cavanaugh.

"Place me on leave, don't send me there!" Jane pleaded, and Maura's knees weakened at the sound.

"Go now!" Cavanaugh screamed.

Jane snarled at all of them and made to leave.

"What about Dr. Isles? She was part of the cat fight too," Pike added unhelpfully, and for that statement Jane shoved him out of the way on her path out of the office.

When Jane had left, Maura walked up to Pike and pressed the envelope into his chest. "You're in charge now," she told him. Her tone was a mix of acrid and despondent.

"I am?" he gulped weakly.

"What's in that envelope?" Cavanaugh demanded of her, afraid of what he already knew.

"My resignation," Maura gave him the answer he asked for, the one he didn't want, and then she too left the building.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a transitional chapter, so I figured I would post it in the middle of the week before the fun of chapter 8 this weekend ;)

Maura, deep in thought and some regret, walked through her courtyard and up to her front door. She had cut Jane down, small, when they argued in her office. Jane had tried to strike back, and she landed some punches, but Maura was the true prize fighter when it came to wordplay and insults. It was a skill she rarely brandished because her personality was so kind, but she struggled to think of anyone who could match her when they drew her ire.

The dropping of the lock mechanism as she turned her key satisfied her and she almost wanted to do it again, so starved was she for comfort in the last few days. She pushed through that feeling, however, and when she walked through the doorway, she thought about calling Angela for lunch just so that she wouldn't have to be alone.

Her bag dropped from her elbow to her fingers when she looked up to her living room - a tornado seemed to have ripped through it. Chairs were overturned, upholstery slashed, books and papers destroyed with tatters scattered about the room. Fear coursed through her. "Oh my god," she exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh my god." The back door had been kicked open, and whoever had robbed her hadn't bothered to shut it when they left.

_Ok_ , she thought to calm herself, _ok. What do I do?_ Her phone sat in her hand before she knew she had grabbed it out of her purse.

* * *

Jane scratched with disdain at the itchy polo tucked into her evidence management-issued khakis. She sat at the desk of some poor pencil pusher that had just gone on vacation, and she rued that _she_ was the poor pencil pusher now. Robert, in Florida taking his kids to Disney World, had a nice-enough looking family based on the pictures adorning his tiny personal area. She knocked over a few of them when she flinched from the ring of her phone against her hip.

It was dark in the basement, even damp, but Jane recognized the caller instantly when their face lit up her iPhone's screen. "Hey," she answered softly, "listen, that… this morning was stupid of me, I'm sorry." Jane heard beats of silence on the other end, as though Maura were letting the words wash over her. The beats were punctuated by heavy breath. "What's wrong?"

" _Someone broke in, Jane. The place is a mess. My living room is destroyed,"_ Maura finally explained, _"I didn't know who to call, where to go. I just needed to hear -"_

"Hey hey, calm down, ok?" Jane saved Maura from the confession she knew the woman did not want to make. "Tell me what you see."

" _Like I said, it's a mess. They tore up all my couch cushions, ripped up all my books, cut open the dining table chairs. Turned over everything,"_ Maura said.

"Ok," Jane thought as she tapped a pen against her desk, "so whoever it was was lookin' for something. Anything noticeably missing?"

" _Not from the main room. I'm too afraid to check upstairs_ ," confessed Maura. " _Will you come?"_

Jane paused, gulped loudly. There was no way in hell that Connors and Cavanaugh would let her go anywhere near Maura right now, not while she was on the clock. "Baby, I…" the pet name slipped, and as soon as she heard it out of her own mouth, she knew they played a dangerous game. "I gotta do this evidence thing, lay low and be a good girl, you know? I can kiss my job goodbye if I go anywhere near your place right now. But, I'll, I'll do you one better, a'right?"

She could hear the reluctant acceptance in Maura's voice when she said, " _Ok."_

"I'm gonna send Frankie and Korsak. They'll be over as soon as they can. What I want you to do is walk out, get in the car, and park it down the street until you see them pull up," Jane scanned her surroundings, motioning over to Frost when she saw him enter the bullpen. "I'm gonna hang up so I can call them, ok?"

Maura hung up before Jane could receive an answer. "Who was that?" Frost asked Jane, two coffees in his hands.

"Maura," Jane said sternly. "She got broken into."

"No way," said Frost.

"Yeah, gimme a minute. I gotta send Korsak and Frankie over there." She speed-dialed Korsak and gave him the details. When he said he would get Frankie over there, she breathed a sigh, not necessarily of relief, but more of accomplishment.

"You alright?" Frost asked, putting one of the coffee cups on Jane's desk. With his now free hand, he straightened his tie.

"Yeah I'm good," Jane lied. She waved him off with her left hand and took a big gulp of her coffee.

"Wish you could go over there, huh," He pushed, and it was all she needed to throw her head back and groan.

"It's killin' me, Frost," she said, her words tinny and double-toned from the way her neck elongated and her head knocked the back of her office chair. "I mean, my best friend just got burglarized and I can't go help her because Connors and Cavanaugh'll have my head if I do. Why does Cavanaugh have me down here anyway?"

"I don't know," Frost shrugged seriously, "Wish I did."

Jane made a face and ran a hand through her hair. "Well I guess I can catch up on emails."

Frost let her sit in the helplessness for a few seconds before he smiled cheekily at her. "So she's still your best friend?"

Jane blushed in light of all that Frost didn't know. "I mean, if I have anything to say about it, yeah," she said.

Before Frost could continue grilling her, a man, presumably in charge, came up to the desk and dropped a letter box full of firearms. "If you're done with the crossword puzzle, _Detective_ , how about you break down these seized guns? Parts go in the evidence barrel here."

When he walked away, Jane and Frost shared a predatory stare. "You wanna…?" asked Frost, pointing to the box.

"Oh yeah," agreed Jane as she scooped up both coffees and followed him out with the box, "we're just gonna, you know, with these guns," she said, not even bothering with an excuse as they went down to the firing room.

When they closed the door behind them, Jane put up her hair and donned the requisite safety goggles, snatching the shiny Desert Eagle off the top of the pile before Frost could get to it. "Shame I'll have to be melting this down, huh?" she said as she held it heavy in her left hand.

"Damn shame," Frost nodded, then stepped away so that she could test fire it.

She wasted no time readying the gun and then blasting four shots into the water. "Damn! I could do this all day!" she yelled, her ulnar veins popped with the exertion of aiming and shooting.

"Right?" said Frost, grabbing another gun from the box and taking his turn, "at least we got this out of Connors swooping in and taking our ball."

Jane moved to the tank with a net for the bullet she unloaded into it. "Yeah, he's got a shit list a mile long with me. Sleep with a federal agent, 'forget' to put a BOLO out on Paddy Doyle, _have a cat fight_ ," she imitated the last one with a particularly whiny man voice.

"He didn't really say that," Frost commented, incredulous. He pulled his ear muffs off and crossed his arms.

"Oh yes he did," Jane confirmed. She pulled the bullet out and moved toward the window to hold it up into the light.

"Well, you gals do tend to do a lot of squealing when you get upset."

"Shut up," laughed Jane. Then she glowered at the bullet. "Hey, Frost, look at the lands and grooves on this bullet."

"Damn," whistled Frost.

"This is the bullet from the Desert Eagle," she started, and then went to the evidence shelf to pull the container Frost had just brought down not hours before, "and this is the one from Wally's back."

"No doubt about it," Frost said, "those gotta be from the same gun."

"That means this is the gun that killed Wally," reasoned Jane as she held it up to her face for a better look. "Let's get Korsak to look at them under a scope, and then we gotta tell Cavanaugh."

* * *

"This isn't a burglary," Korsak called out to Maura as he walked back in from the door closest to the guesthouse. Frankie was right behind him. They had secured the area and determined there was no threat, so Maura was back in her living room to survey all the damage that had been done.

"No?" She asked absentmindedly. She ran a finger over the back of her ruined couch.

"Somebody was looking for something," he said, having the same look around, but through a cop's lens. "And they didn't find it, so nothing's missing. Your father ever mention a book?"

Maura grew warm at the act of someone in her life finally calling Doyle her father, even if their relationship was complicated. Finally, someone who just stated the truth. "No, but Captain Connors is looking for it, too."

"We have Paddy," Frankie said, approaching them. "And if he lives, he can name all the dirty cops himself. Why do you need the book?"

"Because Doyle will never testify; it's why he's still alive," Korsak explained. He turned to Maura, and she thought for a moment that his salt and pepper hair, close cut, made him kinder. "But… if you could get your hands on that book, you can run Boston." he raised his eyebrows at the potential.

Maura was confused. "How?"

Korsak had to take a second to remind himself that Maura was not technically from South Boston, even though she was born there. "There's more than just dirty cops on Paddy's payroll - city workers, politicians, maybe even judges." When he saw Maura's eyes light up in alarm, he said, "Frankie, call operations. I want you to stay with Dr. Isles."

"Got it," Frankie nodded, and walked back out the door.

Korsak approached Maura then, got close enough so that he could speak for just the two of them to hear as cops bustled about the scene. "Jane didn't know Dean would be there," he told her, figuring she knew but trying anyway, "is that why you resigned? Word is traveling, Maura."

"I'm the daughter of a mobster," Maura replied simply, openly. "Jane is under investigation for trying to protect me."

Korsak nodded. It was her way of protecting them back, so he let her have it.

* * *

"Can't believe you stuck me there on purpose, sir," Jane said as Cavanaugh used bolt cutters to get into storage for the barrels of broken down weapons in the BPD basement.

"Yeah well, I needed you good and pissed off to confirm what I suspected, Rizzoli," Cavanaugh said. He smiled at her and she smiled back, recalling the little field trip they had made that afternoon to Wally's house after she had found the gun that killed him.

Cavanaugh thought that Doyle had an in within the evidence management department, and with Wally being the one in charge of evidence breakdown, they went with the simplest answer: Wally was the in. When they walked into his living room and found a picture of him as an altar boy with Paddy Doyle in the same parish and a wall full of cash, that was all they needed to keep digging. "BPD seizes up to a thousand guns a year."

Now, here they were, the four of them long after dark, breaking into their second building of the day. "Good scam," said Korsak. His flashlight pinged against the metal of all the drums beyond the gate. "Cops seize the guns, Paddy takes 'em from us. A million bucks right there if you can figure a way to get 'em outta here."

"How?" asked Jane. "They're logged in, weighed, and dropped into these barrels."

Korsak nodded as if to agree with her. "Armored car takes 'em away to be melted down…"

"They don't even tell command staff when they're movin' 'em," Cavanaugh finished.

"Maybe Paddy was intercepting the trucks," Frost guessed.

"Think we'd've heard about it," Korsak posited.

"Y'know…" Jane took a second to think, "Dean told me somethin'."

"Ok… Don't tell us what you were doing when he told you," joked Cavanaugh.

"I wanna hear what they were doin'," Frost said, and Jane glared at the both of them.

"FBI thinks cops on Paddy's payroll were about to make that move," she said, plowing over their teasing.

Korsak shrugged. "Now would be the time with Paddy in the ICU," he said. They had to admit, the play was a good one if that's really what the cops were up to.

"They can't do anything without the guns so let's find 'em," Cavanaugh commanded. His team began popping the tops off of the barrels.

Korsak found one that Wally had swapped with scrap metal, Frost found another.

"Fucking Christ," Jane yelped when she opened her barrel. The body of Cliff Cummings, second in IA command, lay stuffed inside.

"Hey, the hell's going on?!" It was one shock after another when they all turned to see Captain Connors at the gate, staring them down.

* * *

After frontloading Connors, and giving a few moments for him to collect his thoughts, Cavanaugh motioned him over. "I'm sorry, John," he said as they stood over Cummings' body.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too. Cliff was my partner; I trusted him."

"Looks like it could be a .44," Korsak said as he looked at the bullet hole in their victims' back.

"This is a .44." Jane held up the Desert Eagle.

Connors nodded, had them seal up the drum, and put the gun back into evidence. He reasoned that if they started to investigate Cliff's murder, whoever was responsible would run. Instead, they should look for where Wally stored the guns he was to eventually smuggle out to Doyle.

As it turned out, due to some good old-fashioned guesswork on Jane and Frost's parts, they discovered that he hid the stash in Paddy's case evidence boxes, and both Connors and Cavanaugh ordered them to keep the guns where they were until homicide could find the other dirty cops.

"Hey look at this," Jane nodded to a case file she had pulled out of one of the boxes. "Old surveillance photos of Doyle from 1976."

Images of a woman leaving a cafe, and the same woman clearly distraught at a gravesite littered the file.

"You think that's the Harvard babe?" Frost asked.

When Jane continued to study the photo of the woman grieving, she looked up in horror. "I gotta go," she said, bolting past them back toward the entrance of BPD.

* * *

"Ma!" she cried out when she flung open her apartment door. Angela sat at the kitchen counter drinking her evening tea when Jane burst in. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Angela asked after finishing her sip, eyes annoyed.

"That creepy drawing Maura gave you," Jane explained as she bounced on her heels. "Where is it? Get it," she ordered.

"Why…?" Angela asked, suspicious.

Jane cursed her own hard-heartedness of the past twenty-four hours. "Just get it. I promise I won't hurt it, please."

Angela got up and went to her daughter's writing desk where she kept the drawing. She pulled it out of a drawer.

Jane pulled out the photo she had swiped from the file down in evidence and put it next to the drawing.

"Oh my god! Who is she?" Angela yelled, but Jane had already spun back down the hall. She followed close behind; shut and locked the door, cursing her daughter's constant absent mindedness in the face of a hunt. Jane had run all the way down to the car, and when she saw Angela huffing and puffing not too far away, she barely waited for her to climb into the passenger seat before speeding off to the hospital.

When she entered Paddy's room after blowing by the front desk and sprinting up the flights of stairs that were faster than waiting for the elevator, she was almost glad to see Constance Isles keeping watch, awake and alert. "Who is she?" Jane asked Constance or Paddy, whoever would listen and respond, as she held up both the photo and Angela's drawing.

Constance turned and sighed. "It's Maura's mother," she replied.

"What's her name?"

"I don't know. I never knew."

"He drew this?"

"Yes. He showed up at my art class at Harvard. I thought he was a student; I tried to encourage him. Then… he just disappeared."

"Then what? You found yourself pregnant with Maura?"

Constance scoffed. "No. He showed up months later with a newborn in his arms. He said the baby's mother had died in childbirth."

"Why didn't his family take Maura?" Jane interrogated.

"His father would have killed the baby. He didn't trust anybody, but me."

"Why did he draw this?" Jane tried to level with Constance, usually so guarded.

"They used to meet at the Boston cemetery," Maura's mother stated. "It's the only place they were safe from his father." Jane, apparently satisfied with this information, turned to leave the room. "Jane?" Constance called after her before she could completely disappear.

"Yeah?" Jane gave her the courtesy of turning back around and looking her in the eye.

"You are the person my daughter loves the most in this world," Constance said boldly. "Please do whatever you can to fix what has happened between you."

Jane only flattened her lips into a hard line and walked out.

* * *

Late the next morning, Jane knelt in the grass in front of a grave that read 'Maura Doyle - Born August 7, 1976 Died August 7, 1976 Safe From All Earthly Harm.' For all the times she had unintentionally made Maura confront her mortality, being confronted with Maura's stabbed at her heart. Obviously, the gravestone lied - Maura lived beyond the day of her birth. She lived a full, successful life, she continued to live it. She burrowed herself into Jane's life, too, to be loved and to love in return, and to picture all of that never having happened… Jane sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Paddy told everyone that Maura and her mother had died. What if her mother is still alive?"

Angela dropped to her knees and put an arm around her daughter's broad shoulders. "I think a parent would do anything to keep his child safe," she said into Jane's hair.

"Even lie to the woman he loved and tell her her baby died?" Jane scrunched up her face, her Boston accent speaking around what she actually felt, all that she wanted to say about Maura.

"Even that," Angela said. She pulled Jane in for a full body hug, and Jane finally accepted it, wrapping her arms back around her mother.

Jane breathed in the familiar perfume on Angela's chest, looking on at the fresh flowers on Maura's grave. _Wait,_ she thought to herself, _fresh flowers?_ That seemed odd to her. She moved them out of the way.

"Jane!" Angela admonished, aghast.

"Ma, shh," Jane whispered harshly, pulling up at the displaced grass right at the base of the stone. She found a black liquor store bag just under the ground, and when she opened it, she discovered Paddy Doyle's little blue book inside.


	8. Chapter 8

Frankie Rizzoli liked to think of himself as a dutiful son and brother. He was a dutiful cop, too, working crappy shifts and taking new guys under his wing without being asked. This, however, driving Maura to the hospital so that she could see her father after spending the night in her home to protect her from dirty cops, was the crappiest. It took all of his sense of duty to climb into the car next to her and speed off toward Boston Medical.

Not because he didn't like Maura. He really, _really_ liked her. But something didn't sit right with him knowing that while he had laid in the guest bedroom getting some of the best sleep of his life last night, Jane wasn't allowed in a hundred yards of the place. He looked over at Maura in her designer clothes tinged with burgundy and topped off with a black blazer and tasteful black heels, and he thought about how out of his league she was. She had a three-hundred dollar haircut and earrings that probably cost more than six months' worth of his paychecks.

But somehow, she wasn't out of his sister's league. Somehow, they matched up and it worked. Jane brought the South Boston out of Maura. Maura brought out the girl in Jane that had been accepted to BCU. They reached a resonance frequency he couldn't quite place, but hell, it worked for them. So, it sucked that they were… whatever they were doing. Really, truly sucked. He suspected that it was more than just fighting, but the only way to find that out was to ask. "So, what's up with you and Janie?"

Maura whipped her head around from where it had been staring wistfully out the window. "I'm sorry?"

"You and my sister," Frankie elaborated, "what happened?"

"We're fighting," Maura all but whined. She tapped her fingertips to the bow of her upper lip.

"Yeah, that's obvious," he said. "But what for? You two shouldn't be goin' at each other. You love each other too much."

Frankie exposed something so simple and so true about Jane and Maura, but it flayed Maura anyway. She gulped down a sob. "Yeah, we do. But that doesn't preclude people from fighting. She said some awful things, and she refused to apologize for doing something that hurt me."

"Sounds about right," Frankie commiserated as he turned the steering wheel, his right hand resting on his knee. "One time, when we were fishing with our Pop, I musta been like 12 or so. So Janie was 14. I had this huge catch on the line, right? So I'm tuggin' and tuggin', and then she bumps into me and I lose it. I was so mad. But somehow, by the end of the whole thing, she's got me apologizing for 'bein' an asshole.' So, you know she's always been like that, right?"

"Not with me," confessed Maura. She shook her head at how stupid that sounded.

Frankie didn't think so. "That's true. But you're the exception to the rule. _Usually._ Sometimes, though, she can't help her nature rearin' its ugly head. Even with you."

"What are you saying?" Maura asked. "That I should let it go?"

Frankie cut the engine now that they were safely in the parking garage. "Hell no. I'm saying that you should make her sweat a little bit to get what you really want. Good luck up there, Maura. Your Dad's a dangerous guy, but he cares about you. Jane cares about you, too."

* * *

Maura's mind stayed on the interesting exchange she had with Frankie in the car all the way to the hallway just outside Doyle's room. He acted and talked just like her, now that she knew what Jane talked like when she wasn't affecting any kind of role. Watching him gesticulate, laugh, try to comfort her, all made her miss Jane. The way he sometimes dropped his r's and raised up his vowels made her miss Jane in a way she didn't even know Jane could be missed until a few nights before.

Maura second-guessed every interaction they had had up until the moment she had heard _it_. She felt shame at the possibility that she had somehow communicated to Jane that she couldn't be herself in Maura's presence. She felt spurned by Jane's hiding behind what was an often pretty-convincing standard register, but now that she thought back on it, on all their conversations, Boston was pulsating just beneath the surface during every one. There were crumbs of it when Jane had told her _whatever you want, I can get it_. There were flashes of it when Jane had spat at her _What, Tommy make you sign a title 18, too?_ when she found out that they had almost kissed. There were thunderclaps of it when Jane had whispered, huskily, _I kind of love that you know that._

Jane wasn't hiding from her. Jane was encouraging her to chase. Jane was encouraging her to chase and Maura realized that she was so ready to follow until Paddy Doyle had fallen fifteen feet to his possible death as a result of Jane's bullet in him. Now, she was just running.

"Dr. Isles," IA Captain Connors hovered near Doyle's unconscious body when Maura entered the room, and he greeted her with a professional smile.

"Captain Connors," she returned the favor, "what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, hands in his pockets, bit his lower lip. He was tall, average looking, but something about him had struck her as unstable the very first time they met. "Detective Rizzoli wanted to meet me here. Says she has some information on the case."

"Jane is coming here?" She couldn't help but ask, her grip on her handbag tightening.

"Yeah," he said, "Supposed to be here any minute now." As he spoke, Paddy stirred. He opened his heavy eyelids and looked at Maura before glaring at Connors.

The aforementioned Detective Rizzoli ambled in, wearing comfort like an uncomfortable garment, and Maura immediately knew something was wrong. It was confirmed when Jane saw her standing by Doyle's bedside and her eyes went wild. "Maura," Jane croaked. "What're you doin' here?"

The sincerity, the fear, screamed against the surface for maybe a second or two, but then the bravado came back as she walked over to Connors. She pulled a small blue book out of her jacket pocket and held it out to him. "Good work, Detective," he said, and snatched it from her to put in his blazer.

"No," Doyle groaned, "no book." Maura's head snapped toward him and then she realized: Jane had found _the_ book, the book Korsak told her could run all of Boston.

"I found somethin' else, too," Jane quipped. She pulled something else out of her pocket, this time a color photograph, showing Wally, Paddy, Connors, and Cummings deep in conversation outside one of Doyle's known properties. "Paddy stowed away this little piece of blackmail in that book. Looks like you're the dirty cop, and looks like you killed your partners Wally and Cliff."

"See you in hell, you son of a bitch," Paddy could barely get out the threat, but he smirked nonetheless. His mood plummeted when Connors pulled out the Desert Eagle he'd used on his partners and shoved it against Jane's sternum until they had backed up all the way to the far wall of the room.

"Jane!" Maura cried out, not able to do much more than yell. Paddy looked at her and then to Jane. He was clearly panicking.

"Maura," Jane put her hand up, "s'alright. You're alright."

"Don't worry, doc, you're next," Connors gruffed. "Don't bother screamin' anymore, girls. My guys are on the floor."

Jane winced at the hard pinch of a gun barrel on her chest. "Smart," she said, in a typically-Massachusetts _smaht_. "My prints are all over that thing." She smirked, too, though she had no business doing so.

"Well, I'm lucky like that, Detective," Connors said. "You got any last words?"

"Yeah," Jane replied, locking eyes with Maura as she spoke to him, "you feelin' lucky _right now?"_ This angered Connors and he pulled the trigger. It let out only a lame clip in response. "No firing pin. I took 'em out of all the guns. That," Jane started, nodding to the gun, "that's not luck. That's covering all my bases."

"Hands up! Get 'em the fuck up!" Frost shouted as he entered the room with his weapon drawn.

"You heard him, Connors," Korsak said to a stunned Connors. He placed him in handcuffs right as Cavanaugh joined the fray, and then led him away.

This left Jane, Maura, Paddy, and Cavanaugh in the room to deal with the aftermath. "Good work, Rizzoli," Cavanaugh said and handed her her gun and badge. "Now get outta those Khakis and get back to homicide."

"Thanks, boss," said Jane, still scrutinizing Maura, whose heavy breathing had started to ease.

"And you get better so we can move your ass to walpole," Cavanaugh nodded to Doyle before he left.

Jane went to Maura with her hands on her belt. She wiggled her nose and sniffed.

"Are you ok?" Maura asked her, resisting the urge to rub her fingers over where she knew a bruise must have started to form on Jane's chest. Her tone was hard and almost sarcastic; it had to be to protect her from cracking herself open for Jane.

"Yeah," Jane threw her head to the side and nodded, her typical _don't worry about me_ gesture that Maura loved and hated. "You?"

"I'm ok," Maura said, turning her eyes back to her father. "I don't like to see you in danger, even when we are fighting."

"Yeah I don't like it either," Jane said. She looked at Paddy who stared her down in begrudging respect.

Maura watched them size each other up. "I want to know something," she said to her father, "would you have shot her?"

Doyle seemed to consider it. When he finally decided on an answer, it shook Maura. "Hell yeah, you're a cop," he said to Jane. Both of the women could barely hear him, but the words were still icy. Full of handcuffed deadly intent.

Jane looked pointedly at Maura as if to say _What did you expect?_ "I got somethin' I need to show you," she said, daring to touch Maura's wrist before she exited the room.

Maura followed her out, caught up to her at the elevator. They waited for the car down. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there," Jane said. She inched closer to Maura's shoulder until they bumped. "It's important."

"Are you driving me?" Maura asked, refusing to look Jane in the face.

"Yeah, if that's alright with you," Jane replied. "I saw Frankie pulling out just as I got in."

"Alright." It was the most agreeable Maura had been in days. They stepped into the car together, and Jane pressed the door close button before anyone else could join them. "How you doin' after Connors' goons trashed the house?"

"Shaken up. To be honest, I've been shaken up all week," Maura sighed. "I've ordered new furniture. They didn't touch the upstairs, so at least my room stayed somewhat of a safe haven."

"I miss ya bedroom," Jane whispered, tested the waters, dipped a toe in to measure the temperature.

"Don't, Jane. Just don't," the waters were ice cold. Maura stepped out first when the doors opened, and Jane ended up following her to the unmarked parked right in the fire lane.

The silence between them continued until they were well on their way to their destination. "Maura, how long're you gonna hate me for?" Jane finally asked as they navigated off of the highway.

"I don't know," Maura answered honestly. That she admitted to hating Jane at all hurt Jane deeply. She turned to her in confusion when they pulled into Boston Cemetery. "Why are we here?"

Jane cut the engine and shifted in the driver's seat so that Maura could see all of her front. "Listen to me. This is gonna be rough. What you're about to see is gonna be rough. But I'm here with you every step of the way, a'right? Whether you want me to be or not, I'm here."

Maura's stomach dropped with dread at how sincere and serious Jane sounded. "What are we doing?"

"C'mon," Jane said, stepping out of the car and then walking over to the passenger side so she could help Maura exit. Maura let Jane put a hand on the small of her back because she was afraid.

They ended their journey at Maura's very own gravestone. "What is this?" she asked, words quivering, barely able to pass from her lips.

"It's yours," Jane explained softly. "Sorta. Doyle had it made up when he told your mother that you had died. I'm sorry." she kept her hand on Maura until Maura dropped to her knees on the ground. She looked beautiful in her grief, just like her birth mother in a trench coat in early fall weather, weeping in front of this same grave.

"I always wondered why she never looked for me," Maura choked out through tears.

"She didn't have a chance, babe, he lied," Jane let a few tears well up in her eyes in sympathy, grateful that Maura couldn't see them while she stood behind her. "Can I be Jane yet? Can I help in any way?" she asked after she couldn't take Maura's crying anymore.

Maura shuddered after a few more seconds of silence. Then she stood up. She grew tired of feeling; she grew tired of sadness; she grew tired of trying to hold herself together. She suddenly craved sensation, needed to give herself over to proprioception, pressure, and unfettered pleasure. She turned to Jane; they faced each other and shared air. "I'm going to get my job back. But first, take me home, Detective."

Jane stepped even closer when Maura tugged her scratchy evidence management polo. "Yeah? What happened to 'don't?'"

Maura glowered, but she didn't move. "What happened to, 'I'll see it whenever I want'?"

"I want," Jane placed her hand on the column of Maura's throat, possessively, but with her thumb sliding lovingly over the tiny bump of Maura's larynx. "So show it to me."

"Didn't I just tell you to take me home?" Maura countered. "I don't plan on hiding it from you."

Jane gulped and moved her hand back to Maura's spine. They walked quickly to the car. Maura wanted to laugh when Jane fumbled with her seatbelt several times, but she refrained. "Nervous?" she asked instead.

"Impatient," Jane answered. She finally clicked the teeth into the buckle; the engine roared to life, and her tires squealed as she jerked away from the curb.

"We're going to try something new," Maura informed Jane. "You're going to try something new for me."

"Am I gonna regret agreeing to this?" Jane asked, but a smirk belied the fear in her question.

"Definitely not," Maura stated confidently. "It involves me being on top of you."

Jane hummed and her palms sweated. "Definitely not," she agreed, voice high and shaky.

* * *

" _Ah_ …" Jane put her head back onto the pillowcase she had sweated through and held onto Maura's hips for dear life. "When… you… said… on top…"

"What?" asked Maura, annoyed, grinding hard and fast against Jane's pelvis with no mercy.

"I didn't think this… was… what you meant," Jane yelped, kicking her legs out as far as they would go, long and lean and flexing to stave off the roiling pleasure leaking from her brain to between her legs, and quick. "Christ, will you slow down? I'm gonna come too fast!" she tried to sit up, to put her face between Maura's bobbing breasts, to take a nipple into her mouth, but Maura pushed her back down. That would be too much: Jane's North End talk, Jane's mouth on her, Jane attempting to co-set the rhythm inside her would excite her too much.

"That's the point," she panted, hands sliding over Jane's abdomen slick with both of their sweat to keep her locked in place, to keep her own orgasm far enough away.

"Sweet Jesus _fuck_ ," Jane groaned loudly against the shell of her hand, now up over her face and amplifying her grunting. "Why would that… _oh…_ be the point? Why would you want that?"

Maura closed her eyes and bit her lower lip as she felt Jane's muscles begin to quiver. She was so close and Maura wanted to shove her over the cliff. "To punish you," Maura said simply, ratcheting up their tempo even further. Her headboard pounded against her bedroom wall and she had to admit that she loved the way they looked as they fucked in broad daylight.

Her answer pissed Jane off - soon Maura was in the air, and shortly after that, she fell hard on her back against the mattress, not even aware that it was Jane that had thrown her, flipped her, until Jane was inside again and giving her a back-breaking deep stroke. "What the hell, Maura," Jane's breath was so close that when Maura opened her mouth to receive the detective's tongue, she could feel puffs of air as a prelude.

Their kisses were as chaotic as their lovemaking - Maura nipped at Jane, but then she soothed with a sweet, suckling row of her lips when Jane fucked her how she liked. Steady and fast and hard. And on top. "You know why we're doing this, right?" Maura asked when Jane's naked body started to feel too good, too comfortable against her own.

"So you can punish me?" Jane teased, using Maura's words from moments before against her. Maura swerved when Jane tried to kiss her again. "Why do you even have one of these anyway?"

She referred to the toy between them, the one strapped to her hips and inside of them both. Maura took the chance to land a jab that Jane unwittingly gave her. "You're not the only woman I've slept with, you know. I like to be prepared," she combined a glare with a smirk and touched Jane's nose with faux affection.

Jane chuckled. "You're not my first rodeo, either, Maura," she said, and Maura turned red, having expected the opposite. Jane let her sit in the revelation for a little while as she adopted Maura's pace from before. "Though I will say I've never really done this."

Maura's head spun at how fast the rug had been pulled from beneath her proverbial feet and how she should have seen it coming. She had thought that she was Jane's first woman, but that didn't scare her off wanting to try what they were doing now because she knew how athletic, how attentive, how competitive Jane was. Of course this would be no different. Jane needed no learning curves, not when she had a body like she did and she knew the person she was sleeping with as well as she knew Maura. Knowing now that Jane had been with women, at least in some capacity, slid the last piece of the puzzle into place. " _Oh Christ…_ " Maura moaned hotly into Jane's ear, an echo of Jane's earlier sentiment, and the only exclamation she could find good enough for what she felt when she let her legs wrap limply around her best friend's.

"This is gonna feel way better for you if you stop trying to make me pay," Jane tried to sound authoritative and tough, but she hummed into their next kiss and the sound of it dismantled any potency the dig might have had.

"It's already good," Maura cried, wrapping her arms tight around Jane's shoulders to hide the naked emotion on her face, raw and wanting and receiving when she bit Jane's ear and held on.

"What was that?" Jane shot her head up and looked into Maura's eyes. Maura glared at the ruined moment, but Jane brought it back. "Say it again," Jane demanded, slowing her hips way _way_ down as leverage. "Tell me you like it."

Maura's pride screamed at her not to do it, but her body clenched around Jane at the request. It implored her to reply, only if to hear Jane say something else as possessive. "I like it, I like it," she begged, though she wasn't sure what she was begging for. Maybe it was just for Jane to stay inside. She put her hands on either side of Jane's face. "Don't you dare stop."

Jane, hearing exactly what she wanted, held Maura down by her hips and pushed herself in so deep that Maura yanked her forward with her thumb in Jane's mouth at the sensation. Jane sucked on it and pulled back, let it hang limply against her bottom lip as she spoke. "You and me are gonna come together," she asserted through her own exertion, distorted by the appendage between her teeth, "no arguing."

And they did. But that didn't stop Maura from kicking Jane out as soon as they both regained the ability to breathe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are firmly in the Kama Sutra portion of Boston Kama Sutra. LOL. I am posting this chapter a bit early because I am on vacation and have the time. Thank you all for reading and commenting; I appreciate it!

Jane recognized her error as soon as Maura had opened the door. She had thought that perhaps things between them were starting to improve when Maura had asked her to return the toolbox she had borrowed many weeks before: it was a boring reason on its face, but the fact that Maura had asked her to come by at all had signaled progress to Jane. She had shown up early, requested an early time, and barely had enough hands for the fancy toolbox, the donuts, and the flowers she'd brought.

But, Maura was clearly uninterested in all these things. Even the fancy toolbox. To the untrained, un-Jane eye, she looked like she had recently woken up and had decided to lounge on a Saturday morning, in a black silk robe and _maybe_ something underneath. But Jane noticed the way her hair fell in a stylized mess. She saw the barely-there but still-applied eye makeup and the artful way Maura had tied the sash of her robe to accentuate the open expanse of skin just above her breasts. And suddenly Jane felt a little foolish for what she had assumed would be a chance to talk and maybe have some breakfast together. "I admit I was a little surprised when you asked to come over at eight," Maura said, taking the bouquet from Jane's hand anyway, smelling it with a soft, teasing smile.

"My uh, my brothers are comin' over for lunch today," Jane told her. "I wanted to, well I wanted to make sure we had enough time to talk. But I guess that talking wasn't really what you had in mind."

"Not really, no," chuckled Maura. "The toolbox was a ruse." She winked.

"I see that now," Jane admitted. Her insides jolted when Maura tugged her in by her hoodie's sleeve. "I brought you donuts and everything. Because I know you like them."

"I like flowers, too," Maura said, shrugging. "But donuts and flowers don't take the place of an apology."

"Neither does what we're about to do," Jane responded pointedly. "But we're gonna do it anyway."

"You can say no." Maura paused, folded her arms, gave Jane an out.

"Why the hell would I wanna do that?" Jane griped as she sidled up to Maura and rubbed the material of her robe at her hips. "Do you remember a couple days ago? I almost spontaneously combusted."

"That's not a real thing," Maura laughed and blushed at the compliment. "But I agree with the sentiment."

"Hence why I'm here," Jane finished.

"Yes. I want you to do the same thing you did then," said Maura. She couldn't help but run her open palms over the baggy sleeves on Jane's arms. "But I don't really want to look at you while you do it."

Jane only raised an eyebrow higher than Maura thought anatomically possible.

"Do you know what I'm asking you?" Maura pressed. She searched Jane's eyes for understanding.

"Face down, ass up. Got it," Jane said firmly with a nod.

Maura wondered how such a crass and to-the-point phrase captured everything that she wanted, but when Jane said it, she nearly groaned. "You're surprising me each time we do this," she confessed. Jane moved a gentle hand to her back and rubbed her thumb in small swipes between Maura's shoulder blades.

"Because I'm not totally lost when it comes to sex?" Jane laughed. "I get why you might think that. But sex and love are different."

"Because you keep teaching me things," Maura closed her eyelids and allowed herself the indulgence of Jane's touch.

"Should be the opposite, shouldn't it?" Jane asked. When Maura opened her eyes as if to agree, she continued. "The next person you sleep with is gonna wonder where you got all the blue-collar dirty talk from, you know."

Maura gulped because Jane's statement stomped on her heart. It was easy, it was flirtatious, it was kind in the way it didn't assume anything. And Maura would wither away if Jane found out what she had just found out about herself: that she didn't want there to _be_ a next person. She told herself it was possession, that if she had a next one up, then so would Jane, and she wanted Jane to want her like this forever. But then she realized that that was just as damning a feeling. She needed to banish whatever was bubbling up in her by wiping out her brain, even just for a couple of hours. "We're wasting time down here," she said grumpily, and then she turned on her heels toward the stairs.

Jane remembered what it was Maura had just asked her to do and then bolted up the steps after her, two at a time. She nearly barreled over Maura when Maura stopped in the doorway to push into the bedroom.

"You're going to have to work on that impatience," Maura said, voice layered with lust, when she felt Jane press into her back.

"Then you're gonna have to work on bein' less sexy," Jane whined, pushing at the door with her hand above Maura's head. They spilled into the room, and the bedclothes were still pulled back from when Maura had awoken.

Maura turned around and grabbed Jane's jaw in her right hand. "I want you to sound like North Boston when you're inside me," she demanded.

Jane flushed deep red. "I can do that, but I don't think I'm gonna be doin' much talkin'," she said in response.

"Well, whenever you do, just make it you. I want to hear _you,_ " Maura said, for the first time inviting Jane into her bed and not Detective Rizzoli, and Jane wanted to cry. She kissed Maura instead, one arm around her shoulders and the other between their bodies to undo the loose knot of her robe. Jane's suspicions from the front door were confirmed when that hand floated into the now open space of the garment, roaming Maura's clothesless skin any place it could reach. Maura placed her own hand over it and guided it between her legs, waiting for Jane's response. She wasn't disappointed when Jane's pupils blew open. "You, uh, you ready for me?"

"What do you think?" Maura asked coyly. "What do you feel?"

"I feel like we should not let that go to waste," Jane said shakily as she nodded to where their hands still played.

Maura stifled a laugh at her best friend's forthright humor. It almost felt like home again. "Well, you know what to do," she said as she dropped her robe, walking slowly to the bed to let Jane drink all of her in.

Jane pulled hastily at the collar of her hoodie and yanked it over her head. She kicked off her shoes next, danced around until her joggers were off and all she wore were her undergarments and socks. Once she divested herself even of that, she walked over to the side where Maura had laid down. "I know I got marchin' orders," said Jane, "but let me have a kiss first?"

Maura looked Jane up and down as though she were weighing the options. She nodded finally, but when Jane went to lay on top of her, she held a hand to her chest. "Don't get comfortable," Maura warned. They kissed slowly and sweetly.

Maura could tell that Jane had ordered some coffee at the donut shop and downed it before she walked in the house; she tasted like every morning they had gone to that shop, squarely in Jane's part of town, before arriving at any crime scene out that way. Maura secretly adored those excursions, seeing the stuffy manors in Beacon Hill morph slowly into apartments and single-family homes, watching boutiques turn into delis and dry cleaners. The people walking down the street stopped being stay-at-home moms and dog walkers, and changed into commuters, school kids, old men sitting outside of establishments reading the newspaper, and street vendors already hustling at the start of the day. She pictured Jane this morning, hopping out of her car and stuffing her hands into her hoodie pocket, pretending to be bothered by the cold morning air when really it was just that she didn't want anyone to know her hands hurt. She imagined that Jane had struck up an easy conversation with the woman who owned the place, who had taken over the shop and known Jane since she was fifteen.

"Just letting you know I care about ya before I make ya cry," Jane countered wickedly, with one more kiss for good measure before she flipped Maura onto her stomach. Maura was glad for it because there were already tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She heard Jane preparing, opening the nightstand drawer, inching closer to her on her knees. She felt the mattress shift as Jane straightened her back and cleared her throat. "All fours, please," she said, saying fours like _fahs_ in just the way Maura had asked her to. It was quick, it was subtle, not exaggerated or braggadocious.

Nothing like the swift entrance once Maura did as she was told.

The sobbing came fast - Maura had started so valiantly, offered her body, the wet prize between her legs, to Jane so arrogantly, but Jane wasted no time and Maura had instantly crumbled. She fell to the pillow below her, now up against her face, as Jane grabbed her by the hips and went to work.

That wasn't to say that Jane went quickly. Not at first. No, the pounding felt like paradise because she was slow and Maura wondered if she kept such a tidy rhythm because she used to play the piano. "We're gonna start nice and easy, a'right?" panted Jane, "'cause you've had a little more time to fantasize about this than me. I'm gonna need a few seconds to catch up."

Seconds turned into minutes, however, and they both started to sweat, Jane from fucking and Maura from how easily Jane had just _decided_ that they would orgasm together again, apparently. "Mmhmm," was all she could manage, the hum bouncing jaggedly on waves of air as Maura bounced jaggedly, too. She yelped when Jane shifted her left leg from a knee to a foot planted on the covers just outside her own calves, the sensation dipping deeper into her and more to the right, making a wet clicking sound. Jane wrapped her right arm around Maura's waist and shifted her, hard, and that was when the acceleration began in earnest. Jane went from slow dancing to rapid fire and Maura wanted to break in half.

Jane's hands, the hands that ached every fall morning, the ones that Maura pretended to hold out of intimacy when others were around just to imbue them with a little bit of relief, the hands that had sent her countless good morning texts and had killed Charles Hoyt for her, now anchored onto her ass with bruising intensity - maybe fully intending to break her in the best way possible. It was _her_ Jane meeting her body's needs, it was _her_ Jane giving her the detached sex she wanted, and suddenly Maura crashed back into her own body with delight and urgency. "Wait, wait!" she cried, still into her pillow.

Jane had only heard muffled semi-words. She kept going and her breath fell out in ragged puffs. "What?"

"Wait," Maura pleaded, her head up just a little now. "I changed my mind."

Jane was confused and her body raged at the idea of having to stop when it had started to feel so close to the edge. She tried to quiet it. "'What're you talkin' about?"

Maura heard Jane's hoarse voice weave around her dialect like a tight dress and she knew she was making the right choice. "I changed my mind," she whined as though she struggled to get any words out and needed Jane to just _get it._ "I want to see you, I need to see you," she called back over her shoulder.

Jane pulled out without warning and her weight on the mattress disappeared. Maura wondered if she had dreamed it all until Jane spoke. "C'mon then," she said, standing at the side of the bed. She helped Maura scoot to the edge and put her legs on her shoulders. Jane slipped in again, so smooth, and Maura groaned at the way it looked.

They established another frenetic rhythm between them, Maura holding Jane in, Jane pretending she wanted to retreat. Soon, Jane's belly was clenching with pleasure. Maura saw it and watched, _felt,_ the way Jane kissed her calves as she thrust in and out, the visual getting her to the same spot on the crest as Jane. Once her climax buzzed against her thighs, she put a hand out and reached for her. "Come closer," she croaked, her voice sore from alternating bouts of screaming and disuse.

Jane could not pretend to gallantly decline, to preserve Maura's pride, when she herself was ready to explode. She pushed Maura's legs out and climbed on top of her hungrily, kissing all along her jaw, her ear, her shoulder.

The affection, the singularity of it and the personalization of it, being exactly what she liked and what she needed in the moment, sent Maura high before bringing her crashing down. She sucked on Jane's pulse for the entirety of her orgasm, not intending for the blood to rise just below the surface of her neck the way that it did and in the magnitude that it did, but it did.

Either Jane didn't notice or didn't care because she kissed Maura hard enough to hurt while her body shook. She kissed her again soon after, this time soft and full of apology, before getting up to slide the straps from her legs. This gave Maura time to right herself on the bed, and she collapsed long ways on the mattress, against her pillow. When Jane returned, she laid her head on the soft curve of Maura's belly.

Maura's hand went to her, and she ran it over Jane's temple and into her tied-back hair. "You should stop," Jane said in response to the gesture, but the petting continued, slow and unending. "Or I'm gonna sleep."

"Would that be so bad?" Maura hummed, eyes closed, attempting meditation to tie back together her frazzled nerves.

"You tell me. Time is it?" Jane asked, barely in English. Her words slushed together, as gelatinous as the muscles in her legs.

"9:30," Maura answered, turning her head toward the clock on her nightstand. "When are your brothers going over?" she asked. She crossed her ankles, flexing her feet forward in satisfaction.

"Twelve," Jane sighed. "I recorded last night's game so we're gonna watch that. You should come. I wanna keep spendin' time with you today."

"Jane," Maura admonished. "That's… that would not be appropriate. But I wish you would let your mother come back."

"She'll be happy to hear that. So, you don't wanna be my friend yet, huh?" Jane snarled in return, darting forward to kiss Maura's open palm when it started to pull away from her scalp. She caught it and her lips smacked wetly against it.

"I would love to be your friend," Maura propped herself up on her elbows, causing Jane to fall to her thighs. "But you squandered that away."

Jane didn't move lest she break the rapidly waning spell. "I came here this morning hopin' you would wanna talk, Maura."

"No, you brought me presents hoping I would forget what you've done," Maura argued. "Hoping I'd forget what you refuse to say."

"What do you want me to say?" Jane snapped, as though she truly didn't know.

This shocked Maura, the fact that Jane could have torn them apart so handily and then not understand how. "I wanted you to apologize for doing something that hurt me. Then I wanted you to tell me why you did what you did. And after all of that, you should have said sorry for calling me names in my office. You did none of those things! You still haven't done any of those things."

Jane put her arms out to her sides in indignation as Maura looked down at her. "I already told you, Maura. I'm not sorry for shooting Doyle. I did what I had to do to protect my partner, because that's what protocol calls for. And that's what I've been trained to do - neutralize the threat."

"I don't want you to be sorry for shooting him!" Maura groaned, rolling her eyes at having to explain this for at least the third or fourth time. "I want you to be sorry for doing something that made me feel awful."

"Maura, I never want to hurt you," Jane rubbed her hands over her face to temper her frustration, "but given the choice, I'm gonna shoot Doyle every single time. And I'm not gonna be sorry about it."

"You know what? I think you need to go," Maura said icily as she shoved Jane off of her lap.

Jane yelped. "What the hell?"

"I really think you need to leave until you can actually listen to what I'm saying," Maura said, snatching the covers around her naked body. "Because you're clearly not."

Jane finally sat up, but she still wasn't ready for what was clearly happening anyway. "Hey, c'mon. I'm listenin'. I'm ready to listen."

"Get your clothes and go," Maura sighed, putting her hands to her head and rubbing her own temples. When Jane stepped into her pants and disentangled her shirt from her sweatshirt so that she could get it on, Maura continued in a quiet voice, "please tell your mother she can come back home."

"Yeah, yeah," Jane growled, grabbing her shoes and carrying them all the way to the door.

* * *

"Oh! What happened to you?!" Frankie, with Tommy right behind him, furrowed his brow and shouted at his sister when she opened her apartment door. "I thought that Dean guy skipped town!"

She furrowed right back. "The hell are you talkin' about? You gonna come in or not?"

Frankie pulled the hood of her Patriots sweatshirt away from her and gestured his whole other hand to the wide burgundy mark on her neck. She jumped back, but not before Tommy had started laughing. "Whoa, Janie. You must really like this guy to let him do that."

"There isn't a guy," Jane warned, and both of them put their hands up as they sat on the sofa. "And we're not talking about this. You," she pointed between the two of them, "are not talking to me about it."

"Alright, sis," Tommy said with a mischievous grin, "What're we eatin'?"

"Yeah," Frankie agreed, "is Ma cookin'? Where is Ma?"

"She was out shopping, and when I called her to tell her Maura wanted her to go back to the guesthouse, she went straight there," Jane shrugged. "She said, 'enjoy ya day with your brothers but if I have to watch one more inning of baseball I'm gonna jump in the Charles.'" She exacted an extreme imitation of their mother complete with sweeping arms and rolling eyes. "She'll be back for her stuff tonight."

Tommy and Frankie giggled. "So we gotta figure it out?" Tommy asked. He commanded the remote for Jane's TV with way more comfort than should be plausible for someone who didn't live there. When he had queued up the Sox game, he got up to rummage in her kitchen for the family size bag of potato chips and a mixing bowl.

Frankie stayed put, and he and his sister shared a poignant look. After a few moments, she threw her head to the side as if to say _gimme a break_. "I'll make us burgers, a'right? Just drop it."

He smirked. "I didn't say anything, Janie. I said nothing. Burgers sound good."

"Did I hear 'burgers'?" Tommy returned, squeezing by Jane to get back to the couch. "Sounds bomb."

"Yeah well, wait for the finished product before you start complimenting," Jane snarked, she shook her hair out of its tie and it fell around her back over her hoodie.

She moved about her tiny kitchen, setting about mixing ingredients and heating up her skillet while her brothers watched the recorded telecast. _Count is full, Porcello winds up and delivers…_ the broadcaster narrated Rick Porcello's first batter, and Jane resented the way her kid siblings got to sit down and take it in uninterrupted.

She implored the sizzle of the hamburgers in cast-iron to distract her from the events of the early morning, repeatedly flipping and pressing her spatula into them. It was purely out of routine, out of having made them hundreds of times, that they survived her wool gathering, because images of she and Maura writhing together came to her anyway. They looked cooked enough after about eight or so minutes, and she wrapped her hand around the skillet after shutting off the burner - without an oven mitt or towel.

"Ouch - mother fucker!" Jane shouted, recoiling in pain and embarrassment. Her dog, Jo Friday, trotted over as soon as she heard food hit the floor. "No! Jo Friday, off! Hello!" She shouted at her brothers, who stayed glued to the TV, "a little help?!"

"Ah c'mon! The play's at second!" Frankie shouted just after, with Tommy groaning next to him, totally ignoring Jane. Jo Friday carried one of the burgers toward the living area and set it down to enjoy right by Frankie's feet.

"Off, Jo Friday!" Frankie whined, "Jane, what the hell are you doing?"

"Why'd you give the dog our burgers?!" Tommy shouted, finally keyed into the situation at hand. He looked at Jo Friday like she personally ate _his_ burger.

Jane came around the back of the couch and sat on it. "You want food go hunt and gather a'right?"

Tommy leaned back into the couch and folded his arms petulantly until there was a knock at the door. Both Jane and Frankie shot up. "Okay, if that's a pizza, I'm sorry for everything I've ever done. Especially, Tommy, when I locked ya out of the house and pretended like I didn't know who you were," said Jane, walking over to the door.

"She did that?" Frankie asked his baby brother.

"Still cryin' over it," Tommy griped as he shoved potato chips into his mouth.

Jane's hand still smarted on the doorknob when she twisted it. When it revealed her father on the other side, she gasped. "Daddy?"

Frank Rizzoli, Sr., in his slicked back black hair, Members Only jacket and sunglasses, flashed his daughter a winning smile. One that would have looked much like her own had he been thirty years younger. "You gonna invite your old man in or what?" he asked her, nodding to his other two children on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah," she stepped aside for him, already hating the way he made her feel - small and still wanting to please him. He took the middle cushion between Frankie and Tommy after he embraced all of them, and they turned the game back on once Jane had moved back into the kitchen to clean up her mess.

The three men in the apartment chattered at the TV, the ricochet of their sub-announcing of the game sounding like her childhood. Now, though, those sounds were spoiled by the recent actions of her father. She tossed the burgers in the trash, swiffer mopped the last of the grease off the floor, and rinsed the pan in the sink, and then she couldn't take it anymore. She bounded over to them and snatched the remote off the arm of the couch. She zapped the TV off. "Sox lost 8-7. You disappear for a year and then you show up to bro-out with us over a day-old DVR'ed ballgame?"

Frank Sr. put up his hands in defense and stood. "Actually, I came here to give you this, ok?" he removed three pink envelopes from his jacket's interior pocket and handed one to each of the Rizzoli siblings.

Jane looked down at the envelope and tore it open. "'Once upon a time, two wonderful people fell in love…?'" she read the awful script on the invitation in her hands, and hurt flashed across her face when she finally stared up at her father.

"You're gonna love Lydia," Frank said to the kids, "she's a dynamite lady."

Tommy paled at this and tried to hide from Frankie and Jane. "Tommy? Somethin' you wanna say?" asked Frankie, leaning on the couch toward his brother like he wanted to throttle him.

"Tommy?" Jane pressed when he didn't answer.

"No. I- I mean… look," Tommy stuttered.

Frank grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed him tight. "We see each other when I'm in town, a'right?"

"When you're in town?" Jane interrogated, temper needing no excuse to rear its head given the past week. She took a few steps toward her father.

"You know, Tommy's the only one of you who never judged me," Frank said.

Both Frankie and Jane scoffed. "Yeah because Tommy's always been so flexible about what's right and wrong," said Jane sarcastically.

"Hey, hey, hey, I don't want you bullying your baby brother," Frank warned, but the threat was idle.

"That don't work anymore, Pop," Jane replied, talking like him, adopting his accent, his tone, his posture. She was the adult in charge now. "Talk, Tommy," she ordered.

"I introduced him," Tommy said quietly, "to Lydia."

"Ugh, are you kiddin' me?" Jane exclaimed in disbelief, "you're marryin' some girl that _Tommy_ set you up with?!"

Frank's face soured. "You really should keep ya mouth shut about things you know nothin' about, Janie. If I were you, I wouldn't be sittin' on your high horse judging me, walkin' around indiscreet like you're back in high school."

Jane looked at him in confusion until she remembered what her brothers had noticed on her when they walked in. "That is not the same thing, Pop. I don't have a wife I'm cheatin' on or a family at home to be hurt by my indiscretion. I'll be indiscreet all I want until I do have those things." She was petrified to be having this conversation with her father, but she didn't show it in her body language or her serious features.

Frank put his hands up for the second time that afternoon, unwilling to continue the argument. "Look kids, wait til you meet her. She's great."

Jane finally put two and two together after his statement. "Wait a minute. You're divorced, so how do you plan on havin' this big catholic wedding?" she pointed to the invitation.

"Yeah," Frankie said, sticking up for his sister, "the church kinda frowns on that. On all of it."

Frank Sr. shrugged and jutted his bottom lip out. "Just some paperwork I gotta fill out."

"What kinda… oh my god," Jane said, "you're gonna try to get an annulment, aren't you?"

Frankie and Tommy stood up to defend a mother that wasn't there. "What?"

"Janie, it's a piece of paper, it means nothing," Frank tried to placate her.

"Does Ma know she didn't mean to have kids?" Tommy, usually so timid around his father, spat.

"Look, I have no desire to hurt your mother, a'right?" Frank told them.

"She doesn't know, does she? You haven't even had the guts to tell her," Jane growled. She gestured to herself and her brothers and said, "so I guess that makes us all bastards."

"Jane," Frank pleaded, but he was interrupted by a key turning into the lock of Jane's home.

"Are you three done yet? I figured I'd make us a big late lunch since we were all gonna be in one place," Angela's thick North End cadence filled the room and sucked all the air from it at the same time. When she saw Frank, she greeted him coolly, walked into the apartment with grace. "Frank, I didn't know you were gonna be here."

"Just popped by," he said through another smile, "you look good, Ange."

She nodded, ready to accept the compliment, when she saw the fear on her children's faces. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Ma-" Jane said, reaching a hand out to her mother, but she was cut off by her father.

"Well, I'm actually in town because I met a nice girl. I'm gettin' remarried," Frank offered, and Angela seemed mostly unrattled by it.

"That's great news, Frank," she lied cordially, "so why do the kids look like they've seen a ghost?"

"We were just having a conversation," Frank said, pulling more paperwork out of his pocket, "my fiancée and I are getting married at St. John's."

Angela furrowed her brow at him. "But we're divorced," she said. "St. John's isn't gonna let you do that."

"Don't do this here, Pop," Frankie warned him.

"They will if we get an annulment, Angela. All I need you to do is sign the paperwork, ok? It's just a piece of paper. Just do this favor for me."

Jane shook with indecision and rage regarding the travesty unfolding in front of her. She was about to speak when Angela took the papers and flipped through them. "Oh yeah," she said with faux sweetness, "sure. Sure, I'll sign it."

"Ok great," Frank nodded, clearly relieved. All three of his kids winced at the coming storm.

"Over your dead body!" Angela screamed back. "All those years I had to put up with your snoring!"

"My snoring!" roared Frank, "what about your creams and your… your flossing. In the bed, you flossed!"

"Right! In our marriage bed where we made three children!" Angela countered, throwing the papers at his chest.

He caught them, clearly full of anger. "That's right, and you still treat 'em like kids. Move on, Angela!"

"Hey, hey! Back that shit up!" Jane stepped between them and yelled at her father.

"I will not dishonor our children! I won't do it!" Angela said, the tears beginning to flow freely. Tommy stood up to comfort her and Frankie started to walk towards his father.

Jane went to the door and motioned Frank Sr. to it. "You know, I idolized you," she told him quietly.

"Jane, c'mon I-" Frank started.

"No no. I don't wanna hear it. You need to go, Pop," her words were final, and she opened the door. He walked out without another word.

* * *

The Rizzoli smackdown at his sister's apartment tired Frankie out. He stood now, mid-afternoon, right outside Maura's back door, the one across from his mother's. He had offered to help her bring her things back to the guest house as a way to get her out of the warzone that was Jane's place, and she had accepted. Tommy had said something about needing to make sure he turned his oven off, but both Frankie and Jane knew he was going to check on their father. These were the sides they always took, and maybe their Pop needed someone in their corner, even if he was an asshole. Frankie had to admit that the quiet of Maura's kitchen sounded like heaven, though, so he walked in and decided just to have a glass of water at the counter before he excused himself. A breather of sorts.

When he did enter, he forgot all about the water because Maura sat on her living room floor surrounded by four-foot-high stacks of books on every side of her. "Maura?" he called out. He saw the top of her head turn toward the sound.

"Frankie?" her voice said, and then she stood to find him. He walked over and gave her the customary kiss on each cheek. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Just trying to clear my head for a sec, get a glass of water," he said. "What's goin' on here?"

Maura surveyed her piles. "Well, I guess I needed to clear my head, too. Organization helps me do that. A lot of my books were destroyed when Connors ripped through the house, so I pulled these out of storage to fill the shelves back up again."

"Smart," Frankie commented, putting his hands on his knees and craning his neck to get a look at the titles.

"So why do you need a breather?" Maura asked him, hands in her pockets.

"It was crazy at Jane's place today. Total madness," he said, smiling at her.

Maura frowned at him in confusion. Usually, if she and Jane were not fighting, she would know all the details. She was frighteningly out of the loop. "I'm sorry to hear that. Jane said this morning that the three of you would be hanging out. Did Tommy say something?"

Frankie raised an eyebrow at her, ignoring her question. "You and her talkin' again?"

"Not really," Maura said, which was the truth. "She came by this morning to drop off something she had borrowed, but we're not on friendly terms." Also the truth. Those had been Jane's intentions, even if they hadn't been Maura's.

Frankie's face lit up with epiphany. "You're the one she's sleeping with," he said, smirking.

Maura coughed. Once, in true shock, two or three more times to make it look more natural. "I don't think Jane is with anyone right now," she said, hoping to throw him off.

But clearly, he had the bone and he wasn't going to let it out of his mouth. "Uh-uh. It _is_ you," he continued. "So, you aren't fighting. When did this start?"

Maura took refuge on the new sofa that had just been delivered. "Oh no, we're still fighting."

Frankie pursed his full lips. "But you _are_ fucking?"

"Frankie!"

"Sorry," he laughed. "But you are, aren't you?"

"Yes," Maura sighed, "we are."

"I knew it," he said in confidence, "when?"

"Right after Paddy got shot?" she pretended to guess, as if she didn't know the exact date, time, and place. Her shoulders bobbed and her lips formed a flat line.

"Wait… after you started fighting?" He asked, flabbergasted. "And you're still fighting now? Even after you two… you know?" He couldn't find a sufficient euphemism for fuck so he just raised his eyebrows comically.

She put her head in her hands and moaned in shame.

Frankie belly laughed. "Oh man," he said, trying to contain himself. "She's got you doin' the Boston Kama Sutra, huh?"

Maura peeked at him from between her fingers, bewildered. "What? The Kama Sutra is an ancient Sanskrit text on eroticism and emotional fulfillment."

"Yeah maybe," he replied, "but you've never heard of the Boston Kama Sutra?"

When she shook her head, he laughed again. "Maybe it's a masshole thing. Italians are real hotheaded right? Well, there's kind of this idea about how good the…"

"Fucking?" Maura finally supplied for him, and he flashed her a megawatt smile.

"Yeah, how good the fuckin' is when we get… riled up, passionate," he said. "Hence the name."

Maura only threw her head back and hugged a throw pillow tightly, too mortified to rebut or explain.

"Fuck the water," he chuckled, though the ripples of his laughter were slowing. The way he said _watah_ felt like he was rubbing it in. "We're both gonna need a beer."

"Frankie," Maura called over her shoulder when he had walked over to the fridge and pulled out two Blue Moons, "how did you know she was sleeping with somebody?" She prepared to marvel at his deductive prowess.

"Oh easy," he said, handing her a beer and playing into her awe of him for a moment. Then he smirked wickedly again. "It was the hickey the size of Ohio that gave it away."

Maura smashed the pillow into her face this time.

* * *

"Ma _chi disgrazzia,"_ Jane spat out in a rare moment of Sicilian contempt, " _disgrazzia_." She plopped down at the table and shook the cloth napkin in front of her before draping it on her lap. Her body ached with all of its recent anger and exhaustion; her long limbs made slow by tiredness. Even the water of her recent shower had pelted her with weight when it should have cradled her, renewed her. She'd had to blow dry her hair just to get rid of it all. She quite simply felt spent, the madness knocking all through her body the only thing she could offer now. Her mother had returned from her excursion to Maura's guest house with the ingredients for a home-cooked comfort meal for the two of them, and Jane didn't have the heart to turn Angela away after everything that had transpired earlier that day.

"Sure it is," Angela shrugged. She scooted her chair in at Jane's tiny dining room table, the legs hopping in a rough whine over the wood floor. She heaped a helping of mashed potatoes next to the chicken on Jane's plate, and then again on her own. "But I don't know if you should be talking to me about _disgrazzia_ s - including your father's. " _Nn'ai abbastanza manciari?"*_

"Yeah I got plenty - wait. What the hell is supposed to mean?" Jane pulled back, fork frozen in midair, eyebrows severe and plunging toward the bridge of her nose.

Angela pushed her lips outward, using her own fork to gesture up and down toward the florid bruise on Jane's neck. Jane's skin turned hot. "You know what the hell that's supposed to mean. What about all the _disgrazzia_ you been having with Maura, huh?"

"Jesus, Ma," Jane shouted, "you gotta be so blunt?"

"You gotta be so discreet?" Angela shot back, clearly affected by Frank. "It's a disgrace to sneak around."

Jane didn't know how to process the now very clear fact that her mother knew about her and Maura. What there was to know, she still wasn't quite sure, but the knowing still sent her reeling. " _Please_ tell me how that equates to Pop's shit in any way."

"It's the secrets. Why would you want to keep her a secret? Why are you treating her like this? Clearly she's trying to let everyone know because you refuse to." Angela gestured to Jane's mark again with wide eyes and angry pursed lips.

"Ok I get it, I get it. You think it's trashy. But're you gonna tell me you never got carried away in the moment? C'mon, Ma. I'm a grown-ass person, gimme a break," Jane huffed, and then stuffed a bite full of all the things on her plate into her mouth.

"You think that's what I'm bent out of shape about?" Angela scoffed. "I wasn't born yesterday either, Janie. I was young once, too. I've had my fair share of _succhioti_ to hide. Just ask your lyin', cheatin' father. All I'm saying is you must have it bad if you're talking about sex to keep from talking about love. So?"

"So what?" Jane blushed, and it cut down on the threat of her scowl.

"So why don't you just be with her? Out in the open?" Angela shouted as though it were obvious and Jane were stupid.

For a moment, Jane thought, yeah, maybe it was pretty obvious and maybe she was pretty stupid. But things were never that clear cut. "It takes two people to be in a relationship. I can't just decide what's best for everyone involved and then make it happen."

"So you told her you want to be in a relationship and she said no?" Angela asked incredulously. The idea that Maura would refuse Jane in that way boggled her mind.

"Well, no," Jane said. "We're still fighting."

"But you said I could go back to the guesthouse! What do you mean you're still fighting?" Angela squawked.

"I mean we aren't on good terms, Ma. We just can't seem to come to an agreement. We keep getting mad and then making it worse."

Angela rolled her eyes. "But you can agree long enough to roll around in bed? I told you to apologize to her."

Jane's frustration rose with the temperature of her skin. "Ma, I already told you and I already told her that I'm not apologizing for shooting Paddy. I'm not," she said gruffly. "I did what I had to do."

"I get that. I told you I got that. But you could at least tell her that as her best friend, you're sorry that what you did hurt her."

"But then isn't that me admittin' to some kind of wrongdoing? Sometimes ya get hurt by things in life, but it doesn't mean an apology is needed."

"Ok, thickhead, but this _does_ need one. You want to be with her but you can't even say 'sorry that you were hurt when I shot your father? I never intended for that to happen'? How do you expect a relationship to last if you can't even pretend to be sorry about that?!" Angela let her fork clatter to the ceramic plate below. "Ooh I could shake you!"

"I don't know, a'right?!" Jane shouted in a rare moment of vulnerability, "I don't _have_ relationships that last, Ma. I don't know what to do."

"Janie," Angela closed her eyes, breathed in, pictured child-Jane in her mind before she spoke in order to calm herself, "you see how your father and I were today? That's what happens when one of you can't say sorry. That's what happens when neither of you can put your egos aside."

"Ma," Jane pleaded, "don't doom us before we start. That sucks to hear."

"I know it does," Angela agreed, "it sucks to live it, too. You are so much like your Daddy, sweetheart. And that can mean so many good things. But you get to choose if it means the bad things, too."

* * *

***Do you have enough to eat?**


	10. Chapter 10

Jane hated cases at BCU for the parking alone. She'd seen two other homicides on campus during her time as a detective, and, maybe it was obscene to think so, but they were never close to where she had to park her car. She also hated them because the victims tended to be young students full of potential, but the parking really irked her.

She'd been walking a pathway that cut between the psychology and sociology buildings on her way to the sciences when she noticed Frost waving her down near a set of stairs by the Geology building. She must have looked especially dour because instead of waiting to meet her, he jogged up by her side. As soon as he got up close, he smiled brilliantly, his beautiful white teeth all on display. He said nothing.

Jane blushed. "Do not," she pointed at him, warned him.

He batted his eyes at her anyway. "I love it when she put them pretty lips on _me,_ " he sang to her, waving an arm to his side, launching into an exaggerated falsetto on the last word.

"The-Dream? Really?" Jane said, glaring at him.

His laughter was gut-busting. "You know I'm more surprised that you know who The-Dream is than you should be that I sang it to you."

"I've been on enough stake-outs with you to know your whole iPod. I said 'do not,' and then you just go ahead and do," griped Jane, adjusting the collar of her blazer so that the yellowing bruise near the crook of her neck would be just a little less noticeable. Part of her wanted to say fuck it, she was walking into an area crawling with cops anyway. They were trained to notice things and she'd never get away with it.

"Ah, buck up, Jane," said Frost, "we got a body."

"I'd feel better about that if I didn't have to walk two miles to get to it on my day off," she snarked.

"Who pissed in your cheerios?" Frost asked, handing her the iPad with Rachel Lawson's information on it.

"My Pop," Jane replied seriously. "Remembered he had a family yesterday, stopped by, then proceeded to tell us he's getting remarried."

"Well is she nice at least?" Frost shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

"Wouldn't know, never met her," Jane said too brightly to be serious, "but he wants my mother to grant him an annulment so they can get married in the church, so my guess is no."

Frost whistled in compassion. "That sucks," he said. "If it makes you feel better, my Dad's an asshole, too."

"No no. I'm busy feelin' sorry for myself. I gotta feel sorry for you too?" she asked, speech relaxing as they shared a private smile walking under the caution tape at the top of the concrete stairs.

"Well, our victim, 25, was a grad student in Earth and planetary sciences," Frost explained. They walked into a basement door that led to steam tunnels under the building, and already Jane could hear the hustle and bustle of a murder scene.

"Now I feel sorry for her, too," Jane joked, "where's the body?"

"Down here," he answered, pointing to a long tunnel just to their right.

"How long she been there?"

"Looked like a couple days when I saw her, but you could ask…" Frost trailed off, unsure where to take this conversation when he had just given away that he clearly knew something was up between Jane and Maura. Something more than yelling.

"Relax, Frost," Jane pushed her palms down, "I'll ask _Dr. Isles_."

He shrugged. "She rented a car. It's sitting in Lot C. There's nothing in it but here's the rental car agreement."

"VIP with BCU campus car," said Jane, all broad-voweled, just as she caught sight of Maura.

"Yeah, maybe she _pahked it in Hahvahd Yahd,_ " Frost mocked her for the second time in a few days that she had slipped around him. He punched her shoulder lightly.

"Weren't you born here?" Jane shot back with a warm, closed-lips grin. "Be useful and tell me where she's been goin'."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that hazing is part of being a detective?" he asked sarcastically, but then flipped through to some of her receipts. "She rented a car every week for the last twenty weeks, racked up a lotta mileage."

"Maybe she was goin' home," Jane posited, already working angles.

"She was from Boston," Frost shot her down as if to say _already thought of that_.

"Huh."

"She wasn't due to return the car til tomorrow."

"Well, where was she going and why'd she come back early?"

They reached the body then, Maura kneeling close to it, perched expertly on her feet as she leaned forward to inspect the neck wound right over the woman's thyroid cartilage. She didn't look at Jane as Jane approached, she didn't need to. The dark energy pushed assertively against her curved back. "Hello, Detective Rizzoli," she greeted, eyes never leaving Rachel Lawson's body.

"Dr. Isles," grunted Jane, standing directly over Maura and looking down. "Well I don't see any drag marks."

"No," Maura agreed, "lividity confirms she was killed here. She's passed through rigor so she's been here at least thirty-six hours."

Jane nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. She lowered herself to be nearly Maura's height on the other side of the body. Rachel's skin looked like crepe paper in the low light of the tunnel, and Jane raised a nostril to accommodate the assaulting smell of it. Her eyes scanned over Rachel's entirety, and she was silent for several seconds before speaking again. "She's in workout clothes. What was she doin' down here?"

Maura bristled at Jane's quiet, intentional breezy Bostonian. "I couldn't possibly guess. There are nearly infinite reasons a person could be here at the time she was. I can tell you she was strangled."

"Thank you, Doctor, I can see that," Jane snorted. She rolled her eyes. "Looks like the weapon was a garrote."

" _Garrote_ ," Maura corrected in the proper French accent.

"Gee, I would love a history lesson on the _garr-blegh_ ," Jane mocked, "wouldn't you, Frost?"

Frost glared at her for bringing him in between them.

"Well," Maura continued, feigning obliviousness at Jane's sarcasm, "it was most popular in the 17th century when it was used as a means of silent assassination by the thuggee cult in India."

Jane smirked and looked up at her partner. "Let's be on the lookout for the thuggees."

"What are those red patches?" Frost ignored her. He pointed to the spot where Maura had lifted Rachel's shirt above her abdomen.

"Urticaria," Maura said. She continued to palpate the area gently, refusing eye contact with either detective.

"Urticaria?" Jane asked, and then Maura did turn to her.

Severely, Maura said, "Oh, maybe you'll understand what this means: the yucky red stuff is a rash." She grinned meanly at Jane, holding her gaze until Jane burned with anger.

Before Jane could open her mouth to unfurl all her fury at being made to look stupid, Korsak jumped in: "Uh, thank you for clearing that up," he said.

"Yes, that was a good explanation," Frost agreed, moving in front Jane.

"Let's go," Jane growled as she grabbed him by the arm to take him away.

"You stay," Maura ordered Korsak. He looked at his team in fear as they walked away, and Jane put her hands out as if to say _you're on your own._

* * *

The walk to Rachel's campus apartment was beautiful, with orange and yellow falling leaves occasionally drifting about them, but it was also tense. Frost sized Jane up as she stomped next to him, all scowling features and tick-tocking hips. She was _pissed_. Frost had to admit she had good reason to be. Maura could be downright cruel when she fought with somebody, and to prod at Jane's education, a sore spot on a good day, was… well, maybe all was fair in love and war.

He was pretty sure that Jane and Maura were loving and warring. "So what was that about down there?" He asked Jane, keeping his eye on her fists in case she decided to come out swinging.

She didn't, but her voice said she was close. "Maura bein' an asshole," she replied.

He trotted to catch up to her, already a few steps ahead. "Just Maura was bein' an asshole, huh?"

Jane scoffed. "No, I was bein' an asshole, too."

"But why? Clearly you, uh, you have a thing," he said, flitting his eyes toward her quickly and then looking back to the ground. "So what's the problem?"

"Let me ask you something," Jane barked, "how do you know we got a thing? Dean was here not three days ago."

Frost laughed. "You kicked his ass to the curb. Besides me and your family, the only person you've even looked at is Maura. And I know you didn't get that from me," he raised his eyebrows at her while he opened the door for her to enter the small lobby of the apartment building.

She snatched up her collar again and stormed past him. "You don't know who I am or am not seeing."

"Sure I do," he snarked. "You two have been withering lesser men for years with your chemistry. Notice how you didn't outright deny it."

She reddened and didn't wait for him to catch up when she got to the front desk. Once they had the information for Rachel's unit, they climbed the stairs in silence until Jane pounded on the door. A woman with long, straight brown hair and a red sweater opened it. "Hi," she said meekly when she saw two badged people standing upright in her doorway.

Jane flashed a kind, warm smile. "Hi. I'm Detective Rizzoli with Boston Police, and this is my partner, Detective Frost. Are you Rachel Lawson's roommate?"

The woman nodded hesitantly. "Debra McAlhaney," she said, stepping aside to let them in. "Did you find her?"

Jane and Frost followed her to the living area; she sat on the couch and they stayed near where pictures and objects of Rachel's hung on the wall. "We did," Frost said somberly. "She was found dead this morning."

"Oh my god," Debra said. Her face went white with shock. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," Jane answered, "but we're lookin' into it."

"She was found on campus under the geology building here. You have any idea what Rachel was doing in the steam tunnels?" Frost asked.

"Steam tunnels?" Debra asked in return, "what steam tunnels?"

Jane switched gears when she saw a tile with a strange symbol amongst Rachel's things. "You know what this is?"

"No, it was Rachel's. We weren't very close, but I know she was super into yoga."

Jane nodded. "Bedroom back here?" When Debra said yes, they walked back to Rachel's room. It was nondescript, full of clothes and other personal items. "And here I thought I missed out on the whole roommate bonding thing," Jane rambled to no-one in particular. "We got cruelty-free cotton, vegan shoes… can you say 'vugly'?"

Frost snickered. "Says the woman who's been wearing the same boots for the past two years."

Jane had to hand him that one. "Oh, snap!"

"Ok," he said, turning to the closet. "Rachel had a skinny section and a fat section."

"How do you know about skinny-fat clothes?"

"I've tried on all sizes," Frost winked at her.

Jane counted herself impressed. "Oh snap again!"

"So… you've tried on more sizes than I originally thought," he called out to her as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Even when he couldn't see her he could hear the embarrassment in her voice. "Remember this morning when I said 'do not'? Don't," she said loudly.

He shrugged his shoulders even though she couldn't see him. "All I'm saying is you guys make sense. You should work it out."

She smiled sadly at him as she brought Rachel's shower caddy out to the room. "Loofah, aloe vera toothpaste, crystal…" she named the items as she picked at them in order to avoid responding to Frost's comment.

"That's a deodorant," he said and pointed to the square in her hand. She immediately dropped it back into the box.

"How do you know?" She asked with a look of disgust and curiosity.

"Told you… all sizes."

"Oh hello!" Jane interrupted, "here's a sure way to keep the weight off - cocaine." She held up a small plastic bag of white powder to his partner and he shook his head.

* * *

Back at the station, Frankie dropped off some crime scene photos at his sister's desk. "Oh hey, you just pulled a midnight. Did you take another shift?" she asked as soon as she saw him.

He sighed as he fell into the chair next to her. "All this stuff with Pop, I figured I'd at least make some overtime," he said. "You talk to Maura yet?" he leaned in the way he always had in his life when he wanted to gloat. His sister glared directly at his shit-eating grin.

"I don't think we're ever gonna be friends again," she sidestepped his question, "we just keep makin' it worse. So Dad hasn't reached out to Ma again, huh?"

Frankie allowed the u-turn in subject. "No. I ran a check on her, on Lydia," he whispered. His face narrowed with disdain.

Jane punched his arm. "Frankie, you can't be doin' that, they watch stuff like that!" she scolded, but then she also leaned in. "What'd you find out?"

He shook his head vigorously. "You don't wanna hear it."

"No I don't," Jane lied. Then she couldn't take it anymore. "Tell me everything."

Frankie, though he looked put out, loved to gossip with his sister. And this was just too juicy to keep to himself. "She's 28 years old."

Jane gasped. "She's younger than us!" At that moment, Lieutenant Cavanaugh approached them both. He acknowledged Frankie and then turned to Jane.

"Hey Rizzoli, you got a minute?" he asked.

"Sure, sir," she said, waving to her brother as he took his cue to leave.

"How we doin' with that murdered BCU girl? I'm dealin' with a lotta heat from the brass; parents are goin' nuts over there." Cavanaugh explained through his sip of coffee.

Jane gulped and started to sweat. "Uh, well… yeah. I haven't actually spoken to Maura, _Dr. Isles_ , in a while."

His head cocked in confusion. "Well make that number one on your priority list, will ya?"

When she assured him she would, he thanked her and walked away. Jane looked at her watch - she still had about forty-five minutes allotted charting time before she would go down to the chilly morgue.

* * *

"Tommy?" Maura said as she walked in on the youngest Rizzoli in her office, looking quite dashing in a classic black suit. His hair was styled and he smiled crookedly at her.

She couldn't help but feel pulses of want for Jane at the sight of him. "Hey Maura, how you doin'?" he asked, so easygoing and carefree. He took on all the Rizzoli hallmarks of happiness: bright eyes, straight spine, swaggering walk, right when Maura had begun to tire of Rizzoli agony. She saw it on Jane's face every time she entered the room, every time they had sex, every time she closed her eyes and pictured Jane in front of her. Something about it broke Maura's spirit, and Tommy's joviality helped somewhat. So, she chose not to answer him, because she couldn't lie to him, but she also couldn't explain why she wasn't all right.

"How'd you get down here?" She asked instead, warmly, kindly. It felt sinful and a little bit arousing to be so nice to a Rizzoli that resembled Jane so much.

"Oh, I got my ways," He countered with an attempt at a handsome smirk.

Maura had to chuckle. There was the difference: the potency that Jane possessed, her brothers lacked. "Tommy," she admonished, "this area is secure."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I'm on the job. Murphy's Funeral Home needed more pick-up guys. Guess your people are too busy with murders, so they hired me to pick up the ones that just croak."

She scrutinized him from head to toe again, clearly impressed with his drive. "Well, great. Congratulations," she said sincerely.

"So listen, I," he paused, leaned in close with the serious face he so rarely put on, "I um, I kind of need some advice."

This, no Rizzoli except for Jane had done - asked for her counsel. They loved her, but honestly, they didn't seek advice from anyone, usually, not until it was too late. "From me?" she asked, "sure. Shoot." She put a reassuring hand on his arm, motioned him to the chairs in front of her desk.

"Well, you know my Dad's back," he started.

"I heard about what happened at Jane's," she said.

"Jane told you?"

"Uh, no. No," Maura glanced at the immaculate rug on her office floor, "Jane and I are… not so, um… close as we used to be. Frankie told me."

"Oh. You know my Dad's getting remarried, right?" Tommy asked, and Maura shook her head, "yeah. He told us yesterday."

Suddenly, Jane's irritation this morning at the crime scene made more sense. Suddenly, their epic fight seemed further away and less important in comparison to the meteor crashing into the Rizzoli family. Suddenly, she ached for Jane, to see her, to ask how she was doing. "No wonder Jane was off," was all Maura said.

Tommy smiled and got closer to her. "Well, I mean, it's kind of a good thing that you and Jane aren't talking."

Maura stayed stuck in her own thoughts. "Oh, no, it's not. It's awful," she said.

As unaware of she was of his intentions, he was of hers. "It's just, you know, now that you're not talkin'... maybe we could…" he cocked his head and raised his right eyebrow, smiling.

And then she understood. He wanted her, still. She had thought of him as a potentially compatible bed partner at one time, too, but now Jane set her body on fire and she hadn't fantasized about him that way in months. "Tommy," she warned, returning his smile, placing a boundary in the meantime.

"What? A guy's gotta dream, right?" Tommy replied. He accepted rejection with grace and a self-deprecating chuckle, so much more than she could say for most of the men she shot down.

"Advice," she rerouted, "you said you needed advice."

"Right," he turned somber again, "I'm gonna tell you somethin', but you can't tell anyone." They both knew he referred to Jane.

"I'm a vault," she said, their cold treatment of each other facilitating the keeping of secrets.

"I uh, I kind of… _know_ … my Dad's fiancee."

"' _Know.'_ As in the biblical sense?"

"Yeah. That sense. I, I mean, I only knew her one time, but that's just still wrong, right? I mean, do you think I should tell my Pop?"

Maura could only stare at him with her mouth and her eyes wide open.

* * *

When Jane breezed into the autopsy suite, she watched Maura work, speaking notes into her voice recorder. "Hey," Jane said tiredly.

"Lower extremities are well-muscularized, no evidence of trauma," Maura recounted as Jane came up next to her, "results are in on the white powder." She ignored Jane's barely dormant sorrow in favor of distant professionality.

The dangled carrot, however, was enough. "What, from the victim's apartment? Was it cocaine?"

"Negative for cocaine."

"Well, what was it? Heroin? Crystal meth? Ketamine?" Jane tapped her foot.

"Sodium. Bicarbonate." Maura supplied.

"Tricky," Jane said as she deflated, "baking soda."

"Baking soda. It explains why it was in her shower caddy," Maura shrugged.

" _Caddy?_ " Jane asked sarcastically, using the opportunity to malign Maura's very specific vocabulary.

Maura turned fully away from her and turned her voice recorder on again. "Livor mortis is indiscernable…"

"Ok, I'm sorry. Alright? I'm sorry, baby. That was fucked up. Please explain to me why she had baking soda in her caddy," Jane replied seriously. Her hands stayed folded just under her belt buckle and she stepped into Maura's space.

Maura put down her recorder and placed her hands over Jane's slumping shoulders. She smoothed down the bumps under her blazer, ran her fingers along the sleeves of it, and then came down to straighten some of the wrinkles of the tight blue t-shirt on Jane's belly. "See?"

"See what?" Jane groaned at the feeling of Maura touching her again, so soft and comforting. She closed her eyes to relish in it because she wasn't sure she'd ever get the privilege again.

"You look so handsome when you're apologizing to me," Maura whispered, "even though you're just being nice because you want information."

"I'm being nice because it takes a hell of a lot of effort to be mean to you," Jane clarified.

Maura smiled sadly and removed herself. "She used that to wash her hair. It's less toxic to the environment than shampoo."

"Well that's commitment," said Jane. She crossed her arms and bent her spine to examine Rachel's musculature. "She's really fit, yeah?"

Maura marveled at Jane's perception. "She's had anterior dislocations to both her left and right humerus bones."

"Couldn't you just say shoulder injuries? Why's that relevant?" Jane grunted.

Maura hated how quickly her moods shifted these days, but they shifted nonetheless. Jane's impatience, her rudeness, annoyed her. "She has these injuries because of repeated chaturanga dandasana to urdvha mukkha svanasana," she said, knowing that Jane would struggle.

But, Jane saw the jab coming and came in with a left hook. "I know what that is… yoga. Nice try. Why you gotta do that when you just told me I was handsome, huh? You're so hot and cold, Maura."

"Why do you have to rush the science? Jump to conclusions? Speculate? All in my lab, where you _know_ that's not what we do here."

"No, it's what _I_ do here. I take what you give me and I make a story out of it. That's what I do."

"You bastardize what I do, then."

"You know what? Nevermind. Nevermind all this bullshit. It's very rapidly becomin' not worth it. Can you just tell me what's going on with her stomach, please?" Jane turned red with anger, and the both of them breathed in each other's exhalations because they were so close.

Maura froze at Jane's words. Not worth it? She was becoming not worth it? She raged. "Her rash is a result of 'defatting,' the chemical dissolution of dermal lipids. In 'yucky rash' lingo that means she was submerged in icky stuff," she said, speaking slowly and using copious air quotes.

"So the vegan girl is bathing in chemicals. Great. You know, you coulda started with that and my stupid, knuckle-draggin' ass woulda been out of ya hair long ago," Jane shouted. "In fact, why have you ever been nice to me period? Since you gotta deign to even speak to us mouth breathers in the first place!"

"How dare you," Maura responded, seething. She threw her voice recorder into a nearby empty bowl and the metallic clang provided a cacophonous soundtrack for their fighting. "How dare you - I am _always_ worth it to you. I will _always_ be worth it to you."

"Yeah," Jane said, "you will, until I stop bein' worth it to you. Since you're so appalled by my lack of class and money, why are you still slummin', huh? Clearly _I'm_ not worth it. Clearly you need someone who knows how to use a fish knife and can name _all_ the types of cashmere."

Maura frowned and bit the inside of her cheek to keep tears from coming. She had gone too far. The hurt on Jane's face, the way her eyes narrowed and her left nostril retreated in a snarl, said it all. Jane only looked feral when she felt real sorrow. "Jane, I… that was-"

"Jane," Frost burst into the autopsy suite holding a printed logo in his hand and showing it to her. "I found the symbol on Rachel's tile. It's trademarked - 'Sensei Matta Yoga.'" He gulped when he realized that Jane and Maura were in the throes of yet another smackdown. It could have gone very badly, depending on Jane's reaction.

"Well show me what you got," Jane replied, leading him out of the lab without telling Maura goodbye.

Frost wondered if Jane chewing him out would have been a better outcome.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hmm, apparent skull fracture," Maura appraised the head of the floater that had washed up on the north bank of the Charles. She rotated it with care to get a closer look at the depression.

"Holy crap, it's my first murder," Frankie gasped, standing to see what she saw. He'd been at the scene where the body was recovered, all thanks to Frost and his kindness. Now he was about to break a case still in uniform and he felt elated. Until Maura shook a finger in his face.

"Stop right there!" she shouted, and he recoiled. "I can't take it. I can't do it," she huffed, malice wafting off of her.

Frankie smelled it and shrunk away. "What? W-what'd I say?"

"This man might have hit his head when he jumped," she said, stepping closer with each word, "or slammed into rocks when his bungee cord snapped. For all I know, Wile E. Coyote dropped an anvil on his head!"

"It was just a gut feeling. I…" Frankie trailed off, and for Maura, it sent her over the edge. Brash Rizzoli conjecture left a trail of frustration in its wake, frazzling her nerves.

"This," she pointed to the body on the slab, "is a scientific process. Do you understand, officer? You and your sister are soalike and it's infuriating. But you're still moldable, so listen carefully: in here, you do not guess, leap to conclusions, speculate, theorize, wonder, or tell me about your gut. Am I clear?"

Frankie held up his hands, but he smirked, too. So this was about Jane. Of course it was about Jane. "Yeah, Maura. Clear. I can see why it'd be aggravatin'," he said.

Maura sighed. "I'm sorry, Frankie. You're not aggravating."

"But Janie is," he replied, standing and going to her.

" _So_ aggravating," Maura confirmed, tearing up.

Frankie put an arm around her. "You know," he started, "she likes that you put your foot down. As much as she throws her weight around, she doesn't like it when people back down from her. Makes her lose respect for them."

"She told me that us fighting was making it not worth it. Making us not worth it," Maura whined. She hugged him from the side, giving into the need to touch with tenderness instead of anger.

"She's an asshole," Frankie said. "You know she doesn't believe that."

"I told her as much," Maura responded, breaking their embrace. She smiled at him in thanks. "And then I said some very mean things that I can't take back."

"We've all done that," he said. "Just say you're sorry and make her do the same."

* * *

"You believe she spent 25k on yoga? In five months?" Jane sauntered back into the bullpen, talked to Frost before she'd even passed Korsak's desk on her way to his. She stretched her left arm by pushing it with her folded right one, wincing at the pop of her shoulder when she did it.

"Enlightenment is expensive," Frost said, "how was Sensei Matta?"

Korsak rolled his eyes. "Nowhere to be found. Apparently he camps out in Western Mass more often than not. We went through yoga hell for nothin'," he complained. He'd never felt more fortunate to be back in a nondescript brown suit.

"You actually had to do yoga?" Frost snickered, still at his computer, but swiveling in his chair toward Korsak at the caseboard, "and you lived to tell the tale?"

"Barely," Jane teased as well, "and we had to pretend to be married."

Frost mimicked vomiting. "God."

"Hey," Korsak said, "watch it."

"Ok chuckleheads, enough," Jane regrouped them after a few minutes of ribbing. "What's the sensei's government name?"

Frost cleared his throat and turned back to his monitor. "Matthew Moore. He bought 20,000 acres out in Western Massachusetts all within the last year."

"So that checks out," said Jane.

"Yeah and it's all protected land," Frost responded.

"How?"

"Using their nonprofit religious exemption."

"Oh shit. Now I got a real bad feeling."

"I've also been through all of BCU's security footage of tunnel entrances. Rachel started goin' in about five months ago, right after her parents separated. Then she stopped for months. Started goin' in again two weeks ago, last time was three days ago," Frost explained. He showed her his screen, the stills from the security tape zoomed in to see Rachel walking into the entrance late at night.

"I wanna know what happened two weeks ago," Jane said.

"Me too," Korsak chimed in. He scanned the board in front of him and begged it to show him something he hadn't yet seen.

The answer came in the form of Dr. Maura Isles getting his attention with a throat clear. "The victim's rash was caused by benzene and 1,4-dioxane - likely from a fresh water source," she said to him and him only, "I've narrowed it down to seven lakes in Western Massachusetts."

Jane's ears perked up. "Are you saying those lakes are polluted?" Fight and decorum be damned, she needed to know.

"I'm not. The PH levels and mineral content are," Maura snapped.

"Swell," Jane said, "My sprout troop used to have sleepover camps at one of those lakes."

"You were a sprout trooper?" Maura asked incredulously.

"Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?" Jane stalked toward her.

"You mean because it is your duty as a sprout trooper to be kind, friendly, and generous?" Maura replied as though it were obvious, meeting Jane step for step.

"I was so sweet and kind, I won 'sweetest camper' two years in a row," Jane shot back, "so ha ha."

"Was no one else there?" Maura said with raised eyebrows. Frost and Korsak shared a frightened glance.

"Maura…" Jane warned.

Suddenly Maura was all business again. "The pollution must be recent because it's not showing up in any of the water quality reports."

Frost was desperate to discharge the volatility in the room. "Bet you that's where Rachel was driving that campus car to. She probably was trying to figure out what was polluting the water," he said to Jane.

Jane sighed and shook her head. "Well shit. That's a small needle in a big haystack."

"I'm going there and doing my own water quality testing," Maura said to Korsak before walking away.

Korsak looked quickly between Jane and Maura, and suddenly was struck with an idea. "Hey, Dr. Isles, since you're going anyway, would you get a statement from Matthew Moore? Goes by the name of Sensei Matta."

Clearly it worked because Jane stomped over to them, pointing at Maura. "Oh hey! You can't have a medical examiner go get a statement from a suspect! That's _my_ job," she yelled.

"Hey," Frost stood up, "you two can go together."

Jane snarled. "I'm sure she's taking a different road."

"You're right, I am," Maura said.

"There's only one," Korsak corrected them cheerfully with a finger in the air.

Maura looked at Jane, took in the curvature of her body, all bent and commanding in anger. She found herself, strangely, _wanting_ to be stuck in a car with her for a few hours. "I have to go get a few things," she said, and walked back toward the elevator.

"I'll tell Cavanaugh," Jane announced, apparently wanting the alone time too.

"Swing and a miss," Frost gloated, making the motion of swinging a bat at Korsak.

"Hey, where's your car?" Korsak asked, chuckling. Frost regarded him in a happy confusion until the caller on the other end of Korsak's phone picked up. "Hey Mo, it's Korsak. Got a couple of violators out front. How soon can you be here?"

* * *

"Hey! Don't forget your lunch!" Angela's call-out served as a grotesque caricature to the very real problem of both Jane and Maura's cars being towed away from the curb.

"My car!" Maura shouted, ignoring Angela.

Jane whipped her head around to see her mother behind her holding a massive cooler bag. "What is that?" she snapped.

"Mortadella on focaccia with a little roasted red pepper," Angela stated proudly, holding the cooler out to her daughter, who didn't take it.

"Really? With the Italian work lunch? Korsak put you up to this?" Jane all but exploded when she saw Frost pull up.

"All I'm goin' through, and you two can't be civil?" Angela said, looking between Jane and Maura, Maura conspicuously not looking at either of the Rizzolis.

"Don't you dare pull the annulment card," Jane warned.

"Jane, it's not a _card_ ," Maura chose that time to walk towards them, sticking up for Angela in the meantime.

"Exactly! He wants me to sign a paper that says I didn't want you kids!" Angela said.

"Ma," Jane bent her back so that she could be level with her mother, "we're grown ups. We know you wanted us." She shook her Italian hands pointedly, thumb against her other fingertips, and stared at Maura.

"If you're such a grown-up, then act like one and stop this!" Angela chastised.

Frost felt like he could finally get a word in edgewise, so he did. "Hey, just saw your cars getting towed. Wanna take mine?" He grinned.

Maura licked her lips before addressing Jane. "It is more energy efficient if we take one car," she said, lobbing Jane the only excuse they needed to just get away.

Jane took it to the basket. "Fine, but I'm driving," she agreed. She snatched the cooler from her mother, threw it in the backseat, and then waited for Maura to get into the passenger seat before pulling away. "Put ya damn seatbelt on," she said.

"It's on," Maura growled, shoving it across her body and clicking it in place. They pulled away from the curb without so much as a wave to Angela and Frost.

* * *

"They played us, Maura," Jane finally said after an hour or so of silence on the road.

"They did," Maura replied. "But just because they want us to stop fighting."

"Well _they_ should butt out."

"Maybe they're right."

"About what?"

"Maybe I want to stop fighting, too."

"I've _been_ wanting to stop."

"You've wanted to stop since we first slept together," Maura sighed, "but you haven't put the work in to making this go away."

"I know," Jane said. It was the first time she hadn't come out of the gate in defense of herself and Maura nearly squealed in some unnameable emotion. "I'm… bad at it."

"So stop that," Maura pleaded, "stop being bad at it. You are so good at everything when it comes to me."

"I _am_ usually pretty good at you," Jane answered. She smirked crookedly and closed-mouthed.

"And this time, I'm giving you a roadmap," Maura said.

"I don't need a roadmap," Jane sneered. She put her hand on Maura's knee unconsciously.

"Not for that, you don't. But for this, you clearly do. And you're still not taking it. Imagine my annoyance when it could all be so simple."

"I'm a little bit hard to love," Jane said in acquiescence. She removed her hand to make a turn.

"Yet I love you anyway," Maura laid herself open. "You know that. It's what makes you so sure of yourself."

Jane shivered. "Do you love me… like that?" She felt bold in the way that Maura had just said.

"We are not having a conversation remotely resembling that until you tell me you're sorry for what you did. And you know I don't mean shooting my father."

"I'm not sorry for that," Jane started, and Maura bristled. "But for hurting you… for even putting you in that position… for sending you in as bait… I'm - I am _so_ sorry for that," when she finished, Maura grabbed Jane's now free right hand on the center console with the intention to slide it up the inside of her own thigh, overwhelmed by the relief of finally hearing what she had wanted Jane to say for days. However, just as soon as she had entwined their fingers, Jane pulled away.

They approached a guard booth with a young man carrying a clipboard inside. He exited, standing in their car's way. "Love and light," said Jane cheekily, reciting the catchphrase she had heard too many times when she and Korsak took their yoga course at his Boston location.

"Love and light," he replied, "You here for the retreat?"

"Yes," Jane answered simply.

"Ok, what's your name?"

Maura watched a sliver of panic flash across Jane's face, gone as soon as it came, replaced with a brilliant smile. "Oh, uh, our names may not be on your list. We, uh, we just ascended. Today in fact." She rubbed a hand on Maura's forearm and smiled at her. Maura smiled back.

"Oh," the man frowned, "Well, unless you have your double platinum soul certificate, I can only allow you to go as far as the public picnic area."

Jane's fingers lingered on Maura for a few more beats until she slumped her shoulders in faux disappointment. "Oh. Well, we understand. Love and light."

"Love and light," he replied, and opened the gate for them. As she looked in the rearview mirror, she watched him write down their license plate.

"Let's hope he doesn't run that."

"There's the lake." Maura pointed to the murky water just to their left as they struggled through the wild brush.

"Nothin' gets past you," Jane joked, "Oh look, homo sapiens."

Maura glared at her, but said, "I deserved that." They kept their eyes on the outdoor yoga class occurring just a few hundred yards away, ducking for each moment they might be spotted. Maura took a few photos with her phone, crept down low to get a sample of the water, when she noticed a large pump coming out of the ground nearby. She moved to point her phone at it, but because her hands were full, the phone slipped out of her hand into the lake. "Shit," she cursed. "Jane, we need to leave."

"No, I need to talk to Matthew Moore," Jane whispered in kind.

"No. Listen to me. We're in danger," said Maura.

Jane then noticed the armed men in tactical pants and black t-shirts scanning the area. "Those don't look like yogis. What did you take a picture of?"

"I'll tell you in the car, let's go," Maura tugged at Jane's arm, who stayed put to get a better look at the guards clearly coming their way. "Please! Trust me." That convinced Jane. She nodded to Maura and they got back in their car. "Rachel definitely swam in that lake."

"How do you know?" Jane was definitely interested now, sparing quick glances Maura's way as she sped down the dirt road back to the entrance. Her brow raised itself in deduction.

"The defatting of her skin," Maura said, "and I know why it's so polluted. I saw fracking equipment."

"What's fracking?"

"It's a controversial process to drill for natural gas. They pump hundreds of chemicals thousands of feet underground, and it pollutes groundwater," Maura explained.

"You gotta be kidding me," Jane soured, "that's why we pulled a Thelma and Louise?" She watched Maura more than the road now.

"Well, Jane, it's illegal here."

"Oh shit," Jane said. "Rachel was a geologist. Maybe Sensei Matta didn't bring her here to sleep with her, maybe he brought her here to help."

"Yeah, but she wouldn't have helped. Her interest was in the environment."

"Exactly. So maybe she had that scientist's eye, saw what you saw. Maybe she uncovered the fracking and that's what-"

Jane didn't see the pickup truck headed straight for them because her eyes were on Maura, but Maura saw it - all she could do was scream when it plowed into the driver's side. The force of the impact sent them spinning, the car tumbling straight into a ditch, landing upright and battered.

Jane coughed, winced at the sting of blood in her eye as she tried to bring the world back into focus. Her left side felt like she'd just been at the bottom of a Patriots dogpile. She searched for Maura as soon as shapes started to become objects, and her stomach plummeted into her shoes when she saw the blood coming out of Maura's nose. "You ok?"

Maura looked as disoriented as Jane felt. "I… I think so," she croaked. Her body was a throbbing epicenter of pain, but none of it devastating. The smoke in the car from the impact obscured Jane from view and she desperately needed to see her. "What about you, are you alright? You took the brunt of that."

Jane coughed again to clear blood and phlegm from her pharynx. "Yeah, I'm ok. A little battered and bruised, but I'm good," she said in her own New England voice. The smoke had dissipated enough for them to share a glance, and immediately Jane swooped in for a kiss.

The sensation intensified the ringing in Maura's head, but she accepted the sign of life gratefully. Accepted Jane into her mouth gratefully. It was wet and passionate and she could taste a metallic tang on her tongue.

It was also short. "God that could have been bad," Jane said as she broke them apart. "Mmm," she grunted, reaching in between Maura's legs to grab her cell phone. "Crap, my phone is wet," she complained, and she grazed Maura's left leg on the way back up. It was stuck between the control panel for the unmarked and the dash itself.

"Oh!" Maura yelped in pain. She pulled her lips back, grimacing, trying not to cry.

"What? What?" Jane panicked, eyes wide, "can you move your leg?"

"No, it's stuck," Maura said after a few attempts at pulling it out.

"Ok," Jane affirmed, and she moved to help Maura remove her leg from its position when gunshots pelted the side of the car. "Fuck," she grunted, then crouched into an offensive position with her weapon drawn. "Get down, get down, get down!" she repeated to Maura like a mantra, firing a bullet to punctuate each command. She shoved the passenger door open as she stretched her body on its back, abdomen clenched tight as it held her up. Maura moved toward the now open door, but couldn't get through. "Maura, get out of the car. Get out of the car!"

Gunfire continued to threaten them. "I can't get my leg out!" Maura cried, trying her damnedest to move.

Jane was in fight mode - she only heard bullets and the sound of her own voice. "Maura get out of the car!"

"My leg is stuck!" Maura tried again, less words, hoping to convey her helplessness appropriately.

"Maura go, run!" Jane shouted. She pushed Maura's calf hard enough that it dislodged, and finally Maura was out. Jane followed suit, still firing her weapon at the two men shooting at them from the top of the embankment. "Stay down, stay down," she ordered while Maura covered her ears and shook at the cacophony of the firefight.

Jane touched her back and pushed her towards the forest. "Go for the treeline. Go! Go!" Maura did as told, and Jane fired off a few more shots before following behind with a leading hand on Maura's backside.

* * *

The sun began to set, and Jane and Maura were deep within the trees. "It'll be dark soon," said Maura; her leg initially had felt ok, but now it started to ache with more fervor.

Jane had taken on the job of navigator and therefore did not notice. "Yeah, not good. We gotta find a way outta here."

"Can we rest for a little bit? Just five minutes?" Maura asked, her question small and timid.

Jane stopped, turned around. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," Maura fibbed. Technically true, but her leg hurt and she needed to rest it if they were going to keep going like this. "I'll be more useful to you longer if I sit for a few minutes."

Jane shrugged, found a small area for them to take a break. She wouldn't admit it, but she probably needed it, too. Her head was pounding. "You're always useful to me. Let's rest here. But I swear to god only five minutes, Maura."

"Yes. Five minutes," Maura sighed as she lowered her body down into the grass next to Jane. She put her hand over Jane's just to verify she was real, that she was alive.

"We're in deep shit," Jane pointed out. The dark approached and there were men that wanted to murder them. It hardly needed to be said.

"No kidding," Maura replied, and they both smiled ruefully. "But there has to be a way out. We'll find it."

Jane regulated her breathing, making it rhythmic and even. "If we don't…"

"We will," Maura interrupted.

"If we don't," Jane continued on, "I'm gonna say it again - I'm sorry. I'm sorry that shooting your dad hurt you. I'm sorry that I had no other choice. I'm sorry that the guy I fucked nearly got us all killed and I'm sorry that I let him come between us enough to-"

She was crying, and Maura put her hands on either side of Jane's face to calm her. "Hey, you get too worked up," she said, and they shared a soft laugh. "We're not going to die. But thank you for apologizing."

Jane just nodded. "You know what I'm not sorry for, though?" she sniffed and looked off into the nearby brush.

"What's that?" Maura asked.

"Us… _getting to know each other_ ," Jane said quietly, head now down and hands now rubbing together.

"I don't regret that, either," Maura confessed. "And I hope we get to do it again, sometime soon," when Jane looked up at her, the bridge of her nose hot with a blush, Maura smiled. "But I hope that we get to do it right this time."

"Have we been doin' it wrong?" Jane asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"No," Maura clarified, "but we've been doing it angrily," at that she ran a contrite finger over the sallow bruise on Jane's pulse point.

"That caught me a lotta grief with both my brothers and the guys, by the way," Jane said.

Maura blushed next. "I'm sorry. Heat of the moment," she explained. "But as good as the angry sex has been, I don't think it will be half as good as…" she searched for the words.

"The make-up sex?" Jane supplied them. Both she and Maura chuckled bashfully.

"That works. Your brother knows," it was a vulnerable moment and Maura felt like she could no longer keep the secret.

Jane glared, not necessarily at Maura, but in her direction. "Which one?"

"Frankie," Maura whispered, "he guessed all on his own."

Jane groaned. "He'll make detective one day," she stated begrudgingly.

"He told me about this thing, this concept, in your culture," Maura, suddenly anthropologically inclined, said.

"Oh yeah?" This piqued Jane's curiosity. "What did he say?"

"He tried explaining something to me he called the 'Boston Kama Sutra," Maura replied.

Jane shot up. "Ok, break's over," she shouted, ears dark red. "Let's go, Maura."

Maura sat down still, confused. She looked up at Jane, now full height and extending a hand to her. "But Jane-"

"Nope," Jane rebutted loudly, "time to go."

Maura took the hand offered and got up gingerly. Clearly Jane did not want to talk about it and she wasn't going to push it. Plus, the pain in her leg had gotten considerably worse. Her limp was far more pronounced. As soon as she was up, Jane dropped her hand and took the lead again.

* * *

They walked another half hour until nightfall. The dark overtook everything and now in the nighttime, Maura's pain and prognosis became much more dire. "Jane," she called out, barely able to put any weight on her leg, but Jane kept on.

"C'mon. We gotta try to keep goin'. C'mon," Jane called back, slinking through the trees.

"We haven't seen them in hours," said Maura. "I need to stop." This time, she didn't wait for the OK before stopping in a small clearing.

Jane took this as serious. "Ok," she said, "what happened? Did you pull somethin'?"

Maura shook her head vigorously, groaning. "No," she put her leg out and Jane grabbed it. "Take it off, take it off," she said to Jane, pointing to the zipper on her boot.

"A'right, a'right," said Jane, doing so. When she did, Maura's calf and shin were covered in black splotches, and it felt hard to the touch. "Christ, Maura. Your leg. It-it's hard and it smells like a dead body. What is that?"

Maura massaged her leg as hard as she could given the pain. "It's compartment syndrome," she said.

"Well, what does that mean?"

"The post-tibial artery must have ruptured in the crash."

"But you been walkin' on it!"

"Agh," Maura moaned when she couldn't take her own touch anymore, "blood from the artery is leaking. The pressure builds, and now the blood is trapped in one of the lower compartments of my leg."

It sounded serious, but Jane didn't have an MD, so she felt lost. "Ok, bottom line it for me," she pleaded.

"The blood supply to my lower leg has been compromised," Maura said. When Jane nodded, she continued. "I'll lose my leg unless-"

"Unless I get you to a hospital, Maura! C'mon!" Jane finished, begging.

But it was the wrong answer. "No," Maura corrected, "unless you do a fasciotomy. I need something sharp."

"What? No, Maura, I-" Maura pulled some lip gloss and a nail file out of her pockets as Jane talked. "I'm not gonna cut your leg off with a nail file."

"Do you have any sugar packets?" asked Maura, ignoring her sarcasm.

"No, why? Did you bring coffee?"

"I could use it to dress the wound. Do you still have your phone?"

"Yes. Yes, why didn't I think of that? We can use it to call 911," Jane said faux seriously. "Oh wait, it's busted," she snarked, on high alert, when she pulled it out of its place on her belt.

Maura took it and pulled the glass from it. "The touch screen is gorilla glass." She began to cut at her skin with the glass.

"No. Maura, I'm not… I'm not gonna do this," Jane whined, realizing exactly what Maura was about to ask her to do.

"It'll work. Ok," said Maura. "You're gonna make a 6-inch incision right here, and a 5-inch there," she motioned to the inside and then outside of her calf. "Ok? Just try not to cut the superficial peroneal nerve."

"No," Jane said again, "I can't do this. I don't know shit about medicine."

"Take off your shirt," Maura said.

"What? Right now? Ok, now I know you've suffered a head injury," Jane said frantically.

"To bind the wound!" Maura scoffed. "Ok, come on. Let's go."

"Oh god, Maura. Please," Jane asked, peeling out of her t-shirt, "please don't make me do this. I'll make it worse, please."

"Listen to me," Maura said, holding Jane's head for the second time that evening. "Listen to me. You are so smart, and capable, and deft with your hands," she hyped Jane up for both of their sakes.

"Baby, I'm sorry," Jane said, her voice so raspy and broken, "I can't do this."

"That's bullshit! Your instincts for physiology and athleticism are… unmatched. Ok? You don't need a fancy degree for this. You're pretty good at me, remember? You're going to do just fine. Once you make the double incision, you massage the wound like this," she made a rubbing motion down the length of her leg. "The blood will be black. Keep going until it's not."

"I can't," Jane felt nauseous. "I can't. I'm so sorry, I can't do this."

"I _really_ like my leg, Jane," Maura said with tears in the back of her throat. "I know you really like it, too. So please, _please_ help me save it."

Jane's mind flooded with protective instinct at being asked, specifically by Maura, for help. She also pictured all the times Maura had wrapped her legs around her in the past few days, and said a prayer to steel herself. "Ok, ok," she breathed in, taking the glass from Maura.

"A'right. You ready?"

"I'm ready," Maura said. She pulled Jane to her again and gave her a bruising kiss.

This filled Jane with even more resolve. "Ok, let's do it then," she said, cutting a long, thin line into Maura's leg.

Maura locked eyes with her. "Use more pressure. I'm ok. I promise I'm ok."

So Jane did - she cut with certainty and she cut deep. There was the black blood that Maura had told her about. When Jane started to expel the blood with her fingers, Maura screamed, throwing her head back in agony. Jane shot forward. "You alright?!"

"Shit! I'm not ok," Maura gasped out before she fainted.


	12. Chapter 12

"C'mon Maura, it's time to wake up," Jane whispered. She cradled Maura in her lap, Maura who had floated in and out of consciousness for the past twenty minutes. After Maura had fainted, Jane had doubled down in her resolve and finished the procedure the best way she could based on what Maura had described. Then, when she'd banished most of the black, oozing blood from Maura's lower leg, she tied her t-shirt around the wound tighter than she thought she should, just to make sure.

Maura sweated despite the cold fall night and mumbled as she hallucinated. "I dreamed we went camping," she said to Jane as she started to stir. "Your family was there."

"Maybe we can go sometime. Take some vacation days," Jane placated, "c'mon. We gotta get you outta here."

"Your accent makes me feel at home," Maura confessed. She turned her head toward Jane's belly. "Which is strange because I didn't grow up around people who sound like you. Can you turn the heat down?"

Jane shook her head to keep the emotion away. It was hard to not feel like Maura was dying. "Can you get up for me? We gotta start movin'."

"My leg hurts," Maura groaned, "why does my leg hurt?"

Jane almost picked Maura up and carried her, but then she heard the snapping of twigs and the cocking of guns in her direction. She bent down low over Maura's body to protect it, aiming her empty gun right at the man in the middle of the group of four. "Sensei Matta, I presume," she growled.

"That's right. And you are officer…?" Matthew Moore asked, shining his flashlight right in Jane's direction.

"Detective Rizzoli," Jane corrected, not standing down.

"Detective, huh? Kinda stupid to drive a car registered to the Boston police out to my retreat, don't you think? Get up, both of you," he commanded.

"My… my friend's hurt," said Jane, "she can't move."

Moore motioned toward them with his head. "Get her off the ground."

Three men approached Jane and Maura, putting their guns away when Jane dropped hers. One of them picked Maura off of Jane and she groaned with pain. "It's alright, you're alright," Jane said to her lamely as the man slung her over his shoulders.

Moore grabbed Jane by the arm and they continued their trek, this time led by Moore and his men. "Not safe out here in the dark, detective. Not if you don't know where you're going," he quipped.

Jane ignored it. "How'd you make the transition from yoga to fracking? Hard left at fraud?" she asked, not afraid to be snarky even in the face of clear danger.

Moore, built and clean shaven, seemed to like this about her. "This land is full of black gold, all from shale rock. I just needed capital to tap its potential."

Jane scoffed. "And a religion to hide behind - so you swindled vulnerable college students?"

"I'm ex-Army. And I was already a martial arts master. Didn't take much to repackage what I knew and sell it," he explained.

"So you figured out that Rachel was a brilliant geologist, and you brought her here to analyze your rocks for free?"

"Actually, she paid me for the privilege."

Jane winced when he yanked her arm forward, apparently angered by the mention of Rachel. "And she helped until she realized that you were destroying this wilderness."

Moore clarified. "She stole shale samples from me. Gave 'em to an environmental conspiracy crackpot. I guess you could say we were at cross purposes."

At that, they had arrived back where they started: Frost's unmarked. It still sat in the ditch, pushed a little farther back against a small overjet of land. Moore's men put Maura into the passenger side first, tied her in, and then reached for Jane. She struggled, not enough to get herself shot, but enough to make them work. When they finally got her in, she said, "I'm a homicide detective. And that's that Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth. Every cop from here to Boston will be looking for us."

"Too bad you can't look behind you," said Moore, "you'd have a nice view of the water when it comes through. See, you're in a spillway for one of my reservoirs. A few million gallons of water are gonna come pouring through here and it's pretty toxic from all the fracking. If I were you, I'd put off swallowing it as long as you can. Let's go, boys." with that, he and his men left them, all confident they had escaped and successfully stopped the threat of a BPD cop on their land.

"Fuck!" Jane shouted as soon as they had left. She took the large piece of glass she had used to cut Maura open to the seatbelt in her lap. "C'mon… c'mon!" she yelled when she heard the water come bounding through the spillway.

"Try your phone." Maura spoke for the first time since they had been captured.

"I can't, Maura," Jane replied sadly, "it's busted and it got wet."

"Call your mom," said Maura, "tell her we're friends again." Clearly she was still in and out of lucidity.

Jane choked back a sob. Soon, they would drown. Soon they would be dead and she would never even get to hold Maura again. She wouldn't get to tell her she loved her, or take in the scent of her hair, or hear her break a case wide open in the morgue again. She'd never watch Maura cook with Angela again, or tease her about her unpronounceable lunch. She'd never lay in the same bed with her, or be inside her. Ever again. She gave into the delusion. "Ok," she told Maura. "Hey Ma…" she began to pretend, but then her phone beeped as she pressed it. "Fuck, it works!"

"The microprocessor dried," Maura explained, rolling her head toward Jane, eyes still closed as she smiled weakly. She was so pale but Jane was invigorated at the sight and sound of her.

"Maybe just texting," Jane thought aloud as she typed. "Wait, crap. I can only send symbols."

"Type 42 point 391…"

"What?"

"42 point 391…"

Jane's eyes lit up with realization. "Morse code for the coordinates! Nice job, babe."

* * *

Vince Korsak, having tried Jane's cell countless times back at the station, and having waited hours for her return, had decided enough was enough. He was a man of action, and sitting on his ass at his desk did _not_ count as action. So, he sat here, in his cruiser just outside of Northampton, trying to determine which of those seven lakes Jane and Maura would most likely be at.

When his phone buzzed, he figured it would be one of the boys back at the office, either with news from Jane or news about Matthew Moore. He pulled it out, and pushed his glasses up farther on his face when he saw the message was from Jane. A long series of dashes and dots, he at first thought it was a malfunction, or maybe a prank. But, after his seafaring experience kicked in, he realized it was morse code: he wrote down the message on his map and it revealed a set of coordinates.

He sped off, knowing things were grave if Jane had been reduced to one message in code, late in the rural wilderness. He hoped he could get to her in time. In time for what, he didn't know, but either way, he needed to find her, fast.

The coordinates brought him right at the top of an embankment that gushed water. When he shined his flashlight down into the shelf, he saw Frost's battered unmarked quickly taking on water. "Jane? Maura? You down there?" he yelled.

"Korsak!" Jane shouted back, heart pounding in relief, "down here! Help!" She heard Korsak jump onto the back of the car and come around to the passenger side.

"You ok?" He asked, poking his head into the open passenger side window.

"Yeah," Jane answered, "we gotta get Maura outta here, a'right? The spillway to the reservoir is open and the water's real toxic. Hurry."

Korsak opened the door and untied Maura, gathering her up in his burly arms. He nodded.

"Can Sergeant Korsak come on our camping trip?" Maura asked weakly, and Korsak shared a small smile with Jane.

"Great job with the morse code. Coordinates put me almost on top of you," he said.

"It was all Maura," Jane replied, "watch her leg, watch her leg! She's hurt."

Korsak swerved to avoid contact with Maura's injured leg. "Can you walk?" he asked her.

"I can hop," she answered in a moment of clarity.

Korsak held her close and let her lean on him for balance. "You stayed with her," he said to Jane as he looked over his shoulder.

Jane, now free, climbed out the window of the driver side door. "I wouldn't leave her," she whispered, watching Korsak carry Maura to safety with relief.

* * *

"Hey," Jane greeted Maura as she shuffled into the hospital room, still in the dirty undershirt and slacks from the night before. Their eyes met, Maura's brighter for some of the sleep she got, Jane's hollow and dark for lack of it.

"Hi," Maura said brightly, "come sit next to me. They just stitched up my leg," she showed Jane the gnarly sutures.

"God that's awful," Jane grimaced. "Not as bad as when they left it all exposed, but still bad." She took the seat anyway.

"My surgeon was very impressed with you," Maura told her through a smirk, "the accuracy and efficacy of your incisions means that I won't need a skin graft."

Jane crossed her eyes and curled her upper lip. "Janie can't do big words right now, Maura. Just tell me I did good."

Maura pursed her lips and twitched her nose to keep tears away. She opened her arms for Jane, who slumped into them. "You did good," she said thickly.

Jane snaked her own arms around Maura's midsection and squeezed, her face buried right at her collarbone. "Want me to ask Ma to bring you some new clothes? Alicia said they'll probably discharge you soon." Her words were all muffled by the smashing of her face against Maura, and the scratch of the hospital gown against her mouth.

Maura pulled back to look at her. "I send you to eat something and you come back on a first name basis with the hot nurse?"

Jane reddened. "Is she hot? She's a little hot."

Maura glared but her lips turned up in the ghost of a grin. "She likes you. She thinks you're sexy for the way you dote on me. And the way you talk."

"What happened to socially inept Maura? You're too good at reading people now," Jane recovered, teasing. "I mean, I like her too." When Maura punched her bad arm she winced. "Ow! Listen, on the way back from eating the shittiest tuna sandwich on the Eastern Seaboard, I may have started a conversation with her. But only to talk about you," she batted her eyes theatrically.

"Mmm," Maura hummed, "good recovery."

"Wanna know what I learned from Nurse Alicia?" Jane asked.

"What's that?"

"You're the worst patient ever. They had to put you under general because you talked too much under regional."

Maura's mouth fell agape. "She did _not_ say that."

"She did. But as you've pointed out, she may have a vested interest in making you look bad to me," Jane laughed. "So you want those clothes or not?"

Maura shook her head. "Is it bad that I don't really want your family crashing in here yet? I just need a little more recovery time."

"It's not bad," Jane assured her, "in fact I was hoping you would say that. They're annoying."

Maura rolled her eyes. "They love you. They want the best for you."

"You mean they want _you_ for me. They've been buttin' in all week," Jane corrected.

"Is there a difference?" Maura said slyly.

"Ha ha," Jane snarked. "Fair enough. Anything I can get for you?" She asked as she settled back into her chair.

"Actually, yes," Maura said quietly. Jane leaned forward in interest. "My father is out of the ICU."

"Ok…" Jane said, full of trepidation.

"I would like… would you please ask him to come see me?" Maura made sure she didn't break her gaze with Jane as she requested what she did. Jane turned hard, her back seized up and she sat tall. "There is a man outside of his room that will bring him here. I would go to him myself, but I need to elevate my leg."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Jane asked with her eyebrows narrow and her teeth clenched.

"I want to talk to him." Maura stood firm. "I need to talk to him."

"About what?" Jane stood firm, too. She felt the potential for breaking in the demand that Maura was making.

"About you," said Maura. "I need to set the record straight with him about you."

This intrigued Jane. "Can I be in here for what you say?"

Maura considered it for a moment. "Yes. But you can't interrupt or take over."

Jane nodded, her mind easing. "I won't. Want him now?"

"Yes," Maura said.

"A'right. I'll go get him." With that, Jane stood and exited the room.

She was back not fifteen minutes later. She entered, stood to the side, and a young, stocky, brown-haired man with a shaved head and an adidas tracksuit wheeled in none other than Patrick Doyle. "He's only here because it's you, you know," the man said to Maura. "It's ballsy to send a cop to collect Paddy Doyle."

Maura stared at him severely. "Please wait outside until my father and I are done speaking," she told him.

"Absolutely not," he returned.

"Shut up, Sean," Paddy gruffed, waving him off. "Wait outside." Sean looked at Jane, who still stood at the foot of Maura's bed with her arms crossed, and then at Doyle, before leaving. "Maura. What happened to you?"

"I… we were in a car accident," Maura said, taken aback by his concern, "I needed a procedure done on my leg, but my condition is improving."

"Who was driving?" Paddy asked, looking between the two of them.

"Don't do that," Maura warned, "we're all adults. You don't need to threaten Jane for something that wasn't her fault. In fact, that's why I wanted to talk to you."

"You're not going to ask me about your mother?" He asked her, folding his hands in his lap, moving his feet gingerly, slowly, as much as his still impaired sensation would allow.

"I don't think you're going to tell me about her," Maura answered. She sighed, met his gaze openly. "If you are, then I would like to hear it."

"What did you want to talk about?" Paddy redirected, as if to tell her that she was right.

"I want to talk to you about her," Maura said. She pointed to Jane. "You said you would have shot her, given the chance."

"I would have," he said.

"No, you wouldn't have," Maura replied. "I've been thinking about it since you said it. You wouldn't have because you need her."

"Maura-" both Doyle and Jane said, but she hushed them.

"No. You need her because she protects me. In ways you can't," she asserted. "And she lets you protect me from all the danger that arises from being your daughter. You told me that to push me closer to her."

"And why would I want you closer to a cop?"

"Because, like I said. She protects me." Maura saw through him, flayed him open. "And if I hate you and love her, it keeps me safe."

Paddy only watched her.

"You two are going to have to learn to coexist. You benefit when she looks away; she benefits when you keep bad men off my doorstep," Maura continued. "I am not asking you to be dirty for him," she said directly to Jane this time, before turning back to her father. "And I'm not asking you to like her. But she is here to stay and so are you, in whatever capacity that might be."

Both Jane and Doyle nodded reluctantly before Sean came back in to take Doyle away.

* * *

"Frankie! Come help! They're back from the hospital!" Angela called into the guesthouse after she opened the main door for Jane and Tommy, who carried Maura in, to enter. Frankie, with the door to his mother's place wide open, saw them, wiped his mouth that was full of dinner, and then sprang up. He grabbed Maura's right arm from Jane just as they entered. "Ok, I got her," he told his sister.

"You got her?" Jane asked, even as they were feet away, standing near the dining table while her brothers sat Maura on the couch. Tommy put a pillow up for Maura's leg and Frankie hugged Jane once his hands were free. "I talked to Korsak. They got Matta and his guys. You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," said Jane. "Let's get her some water," she let Frankie lead her to the kitchen while Tommy tended to Maura.

Tommy fluffed the couch behind Maura's head and smiled at her. He was much too close, but benevolently so. "Thank you," she said to him.

"Course," he replied. "So, I didn't tell my Pop about knowing you-know-who."

Maura had completely forgotten about his secret, and now that she and Jane weren't fighting, her ability to keep it seemed to be plunging quite precipitously. "I think that's wise," she said.

"You think I should tell my Ma?" he asked innocently.

Maura sputtered. "No!"

At her exclamation, the rest of the Rizzolis spun their heads toward them. "Tommy, did you hurt her?" Angela interrogated.

"No!" Tommy shouted.

"No, no he didn't," Maura assured her. She needed to deflect, and fast. "My surgeon was very impressed with Jane's incisions."

Angela smiled brightly at her daughter, who had come back around the couch. "I always wanted a Doctor in the family," she said sweetly.

"Well, too bad," Jane responded, "You got two cops, and…" she trailed off as she slapped Tommy heartily on the chest.

"An undertaker!" Frankie chimed in next to their mother.

"Oh hell no," said Tommy with his hands up, "not doing that ever again."

Angela laughed and squeezed Frankie's midsection from her perch on the arm of the couch. "Oh, I got three great kids," she said.

"Eh, I think you got a doctor, too, Ma," Jane said, and the way _doctah_ fell so richly out of her mouth made her whole family breathe out in comfort. They relaxed when she sat next to Maura and when she stopped pretending she was from some nondescript place in the midwest.

"Thanks," Maura said, full of emotion again. "And thank you for saving my leg, Jane."

"I think you two should apologize to each other," Angela griped at them.

"Butt out!" Jane and Maura shouted simultaneously, Maura with refined posture and Jane with Italian hands pressed together at the fingertips.

Maura smirked at Jane, and said, "I'm sorry if you are."

Jane winked. "Ok, but I'm less sorry," she said. But when Maura glared at her good naturedly, she said, "nah. We were both jerks."

"You were both assholes," Angela snapped at them.

"Ma! Watch your language!" Tommy chastised, and they all shared a tension breaking laugh.

"You know," Jane said to Maura, "I didn't really win the 'sweetest camper' award."

"You didn't?" Maura tried to keep up with the ruse, as though she didn't already know that, but she broke when she saw the crinkle at the corners of Jane's eyes. "I missed you," she cried.

Jane sniffled long and loud, too, swallowing tears to the back of her throat. "I missed you, too," she said, and she took Maura's face in her hands and kissed her. In front of her brothers, in front of her mother, kissed her.

"Whoa hey!" Tommy yelped, hands out at his sides. Frankie and Angela only shared an embarrassed look. "Did everyone know this but me?!"

Frankie laughed. "You didn't know?"

Jane pulled away from Maura and took in a rallying breath. "Remember a few seconds ago when I told Ma to butt out? I'm revisin': _everyone_ butt out."

Maura sat silently by her, too flabbergasted to speak. Angela spoke for her. "Alright, boys, let's finish up dinner at my place. I'm sure Janie and Maura are tired. We should let them rest."

The Rizzoli brothers ambled out of the main house begrudgingly, shepherded by their mother to the hot meal still waiting next door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read, commented, and given kudos to this story so far! I'm a speech therapist and work has been so busy the past couple of months, so I haven't responded to as many of you as I would've liked. But, I see and am grateful for each of you! This chapter has no canonical scenes in it, and several episodes get reworked and collapsed from here on out to accommodate the new developments in Jane and Maura's relationship.

"You know, I don't think you liked it very much, but the sponge bath _did_ give us a glimpse into our distant future," said Jane, freshly showered and laying on top of Maura's covers in a tank top and her underwear.

"I appreciated your hands on me," Maura sighed, completely naked, laying on her belly, head towards Jane on the pillow. "But I am bitterly jealous that you got to take a shower."

Jane chuckled. "So is the nudity payback, then?"

"Excuse me?"

"You being naked. Is it because I got to shower and you didn't?"

"I'm naked because I always sleep naked, Jane."

"You never sleep naked when I'm around!" Jane exclaimed.

Maura rolled her eyes and then closed them to banish the tension that always came from their banter - banter that left her titillated and full of sparks, but also on edge. "We weren't sleeping together before. Hence the decorum of pajamas when we would share a bed. Now there's no mystery, so I don't have to."

"But we can't… _you know,_ " said Jane, trailing off.

"For at least a week," Maura confirmed. She then felt the rabbit-like shaking of Jane's foot at the end of the bed. _Wait a minute._ "Jane, you haven't slept in almost forty-eight hours. I'm currently at the border between sedated and high."

"I know," Jane groaned, throwing a pillow dramatically over her own face. There was some kind of utterance afterwards, but Maura couldn't make it out for the life of her.

"What?" she asked.

Jane removed the pillow from her mouth but it stayed over her eyes. "I said I know, but we're not fightin' anymore and you almost died and you're laying there naked… Naked. It's hardly fair. I have officially flown past tired and into… aroused."

"Absolutely not," Maura scoffed. "We will absolutely not be having sex right now."

"Maura," Jane whined, knowing she was defeated anyway, "I can be…"

"Gentle? No you can't," Maura said, "not when you look like that. That's a look I have come to know intimately the past week."

"What look?"

"The 'I'm going to tear you in half' look," Maura elaborated and Jane blushed scarlet. Maura laughed and then placed a tentative finger on the bridge of Jane's nose. "We can't. What happens if I pop a stitch? You'd have to spend another night with me in the hospital. So we're not allowed to make passionate, unadulterated love right now," she said with a shrug, "it beats the alternative of the ER."

Jane gulped and turned on her side to find Maura's lips with her own. The kiss began exploratorily, soft in the way Maura allowed it, reciprocated it, matched the decadent rhythm of togetherness and retreat that Jane had set. They kissed wetly for long, long seconds, lips sliding in place and pressing forward, anxious for union - and Jane would fully own up to taking it further if asked, sliding her tongue into Maura's mouth first and laying it heavy against its counterpart. When she curled it to lick Maura's alveolar ridge and the back of her front top teeth, Maura grabbed her chin between two fingers. _Hard._ "Ow," Jane yelped.

"I said absolutely not," Maura panted. She squeezed the dimple in Jane's chin forward and kissed it. "But we can talk instead."

"I'm not really a talker," Jane sighed, accepting her fate. She decided to revel in the feeling of Maura's hand on her head instead, fingers woven through her almost-dry hair and scratching lightly at her scalp underneath.

"Humor me," Maura asked of her. "Tell me something about you."

"Like what?" said Jane. She rubbed the soft skin of Maura's side with her knuckles, not daring to travel any farther down.

"Tell me why you sound like this with me, in here, and not out there," Maura replied lowly, gravel in her voice as she lifted her head just so off the pillow to plant a kiss on Jane's rapidly smoothing forehead.

"I don't have to tell you how hard it is to get ahead in a male dominated field. You have intimate knowledge. It's just, you grew up sounding like you do, you know? I grew up sounding a little less Boston Brahmin and a little more Marty Walsh."

"You don't de-rhoticize nearly as much as Marty Walsh, Jane," Maura said seriously.

"De-what? I didn't say I was that extreme, but you get the picture. People like me, who talk like me, get passed over for shit all the time," Jane responded. "And I found out real quick that recruits that sounded more like you got more responsibility and more attention. So," Jane breathed in, opened her eyes and squared her shoulders as best she could lying down, "nice to meet you - I'm Detective Rizzoli. The youngest officer to be promoted to detective and the only female in homicide, past or present," she spoke crisply, detachedly, cleanly, and exactly the way that Maura remembered her speaking when they first met and up until, oh, seven days ago.

Maura marveled at the change, sudden and jarring. She realized that she hadn't heard this Jane, not when they were alone, or near her family, since before they had fought. "How do you…?"

"Keep it up? It's not like a total fake accent. We all do it, depending on what situations we find ourselves in. I just kinda… suck the Boston in when I gotta be at work or… impress a pretty rich girl," Jane joked at the end, winking at Maura.

Maura initiated their next kiss. It was short and reverent. "This impresses me more."

"Sounding like a masshole?" Jane chuckled.

"The code switching. The way your mouth works so differently than mine," Maura replied, her breath still mingling with Jane's as she hovered close enough to touch their lips together again. "I'm attracted to you because you enlighten me about many things."

Jane shuddered with the desire to mount Maura then, it barely contained and rattling against the cage of her chest. "You teach me stuff, too."

"Mmm," Maura hummed. "But what I teach you you could find in any textbook. What I learn from you can only _be_ learned from you. Do you know what else I want to learn?"

"What?" Jane pleaded, supposedly in reference to the question, but more about the way she had propositioned Maura some minutes before. Her hand splayed possessively against the small of Maura's back, running over all the tiny, colorless hairs there, before she plunged down to knead the rounded flesh of her ass.

"More… _positions_ in your Boston Kama Sutra," Maura whispered against the clench of Jane's superwhite, fully bared teeth. "As soon as I'm able. Teach me?" she moaned as the hand became more insistent, as it continued to dip toward the center of her hips and cup between her legs.

Jane all but growled. "How am I supposed to last a whole week?"

"Jane," Maura admonished.

"Fine," Jane consented, "just as long as you promise not to teach it to anyone else."

"We're not even together," Maura pulled back from Jane's mouth, both stimulated and shocked. "I can't possibly guarantee that I would never have another-"

"So?" she was interrupted by Jane's word against her ear. "Keep me a secret if that happens, if we crash and burn. All I'm asking is, don't give my love away. The things me and you do? _Only_ me and you are gonna do 'em."

Maura nodded dumbly, too aware of how wet the idea of sharing this only with Jane made her to speak. She let Jane discover how wet it made her, too, and spent the rest of her waking moments being strong for the both of them.

Never had abstinence been so difficult.

* * *

Jane stumbled down the last few stairs of Maura's home right around seven-thirty in the morning. She had put on running shorts and a Red Sox hoodie to make her way to the kitchen, the fall morning too chilly for the clothes she had slept in.

Maura smiled when she came into view, having already brewed an entire pot of coffee and anxious for Jane to try it, but then she saw Jane's stiff gait. "Are you alright?" she asked, approaching slowly, knowing that the best remedy for morning ails would not be her touch but the brew she had just stuck in front of Jane at the counter.

Jane sipped and hummed gratefully. "No," she answered honestly. "We were run over by a Dodge Ram the other day and I feel like I got sacked about thirty times. Over and over. With no pads."

"That's a football reference," Maura nodded seriously.

Jane smirked. "Yes, Coach Ditka," she joked, watching the reference fly over Maura's head. "But it's nothing a little ibuprofen and biofreeze won't fix. How about you? You're the one with a nearly amputated leg."

"Much, _much_ better," Maura replied as she looked down at the dressing on her calf. "I can walk! Mostly without a limp."

"Me too," Jane said as she wagged her eyebrows. Maura shook her head in annoyance and attraction. "If Cavanaugh didn't make me take the day off I don't know how I woulda got any work done. Honestly I can't wait to sit on that couch and do nothin'."

"But you won't," Maura replied matter-of-factly, as though she was stating something they both knew.

"What do you mean, I won't?" Jane glared.

"There's a Tuesday morning farmer's market that you're taking me to," she explained, again, as though this were common knowledge.

"No I'm not," Jane said petulantly. She stared too long into Maura's eyes, however, and softened. Just a little. "Why?"

"Because I need vegetables," Maura reasoned. When Jane continued to snarl, she continued to speak. "Because I want to enjoy some sunshine on one of my few days away from my basement lab," she said with a pout, the one she knew made Jane weak, but it still wasn't quite enough. "Because I want to talk to you. About our relationship. Away from your family. And I will need to sit and rest often so we really should kill two birds with one stone."

Jane went white. She panicked. "You're not gonna dump me, are you?" she asked with wide, wild eyes.

Maura laughed. She took Jane in her arms, rubbed wide and comforting circles on her back. "Of course not," she said soothingly into Jane's hair, "we would have to be together for me to dump you." And out came her trademark wickedness. Rare, but when it happened, her teasing could rival Jane's.

"Maura!" Jane whined into Maura's shoulder, grasping her tight at the midsection, bunching fistfuls of satin robe against her palms.

"No," Maura said, no longer joking. "But I want to know exactly what it is we're doing, don't you?"

Jane was quiet for several moments, and then she nodded her head against Maura. After a few moments more, she said, "should you even be walking on that thing?"

"Actually, yes," Maura answered. "The more I can increase circulation to the lower compartment of my leg, the lower the risk for complication in the near future."

"So I won't be carrying you on my back, then?" Jane smirked, now back to her coffee. She took a bracing gulp, and then picked Maura up, bridal style, jogging her toward the staircase.

"Oh Jane, don't! Your lumbar spine!" Maura shrieked, leaving a trail of laughter from the kitchen island to her bedroom.

* * *

"The hell is Red Orach, and do people actually eat it?" Jane pushed her sunglasses to rest on the bone of her forehead. She had her hands on her knees as she looked on, like the orach had insulted her personally.

"Of course," Maura said, taking a bunch and handing the man behind the booth a few dollars. "It tastes like spinach, just saltier." She cleaned up well after just having almost lost her leg, in a black top and fashionably printed, flowy boho pants with plenty of room for the dressing on her calf.

"Why can't you just get regular spinach?" Jane asked. She, in turn, looked like a New England Dad in black jeans and a light gray half-zip sweatshirt advertising the state of Maine with a bright red lobster over her left breast.

"We could not look more different," Maura commented as she took Jane in again.

Jane herself nearly got whiplash from the nonsequitur. "Huh?"

"You and I. But somehow we look good together. Take my hand," Maura held hers out, fingers already spread apart and waiting for Jane.

Jane did take her hand, of course, unable to resist the touch, but still had her suspicions. "You got an undiagnosed head injury? We were knocked around pretty good in that car."

"No," Maura laughed, gazing at Jane as though she had hung the moon in the sky. "Walk with me," she asked and Jane obliged. "Do you think we should explore a relationship?"

Jane coughed and stared at their New Balance shoes. Maura's were much more fashionable than Jane's simple black and white, hers a pretty maroon, but they were still sneakers, meant to be supportive rather than complementary to her outfit. "Is it buggin' the shit out of you to be in running shoes?"

"Don't avoid the question," Maura pressed as they stopped in front of a booth selling goat cheese and honey. "Or else we'll have to talk about it at home. And yes." Her mouth twitched in a barely-there smirk.

"I think," Jane paused, searching for the right thing to say, "we should definitely explore a relationship. If that means we're exclusive."

"That is usually what that means," Maura said. She didn't drop Jane's hand when she took a toothpick sample and popped it in her mouth. She pulled the cheese off with her teeth and raised her eyebrows at Jane from behind her oversized shades.

"Then yes. You and me. Good," Jane attempted speech in the face of all things Maura's mouth was doing, and it was a valiant effort, given the circumstances.

Maura still chuckled. "Alright Tarzan, but I have a request."

"Anything," Jane promised before she knew what Maura was going to say.

Maura guarded her heart at the sound of it, trying to hold onto her rationality for this next statement. "Your mother once told me that you're very good at… how did she put it? Grand, sweeping, romantic nonsense. So even though I feel like you meant that, I need to take it slow."

Jane somehow paid for cheese _and_ honey for Maura with just one hand and her wallet all the way in her back pocket. _Anything._ "What's that mean? I gotta wait longer than a week?"

"Definitely not," Maura vehemently dismissed the prospect. "I don't mean take it slow sexually. I mean take it slow emotionally. We just fixed this yesterday."

"Ok, that I can do," Jane breathed a sigh, "emotional cripple, remember?"

Maura shook her head. "All too well. Please work on that for me?"

Jane stiffened, but she assented. "Anything." she said again.

"And…" Maura began again, taking Jane to a bench just outside the market space.

"And?" Jane prodded her when she took an inordinately long time to continue.

"And… I may be asking for your help with something soon."

Jane crossed one leg over the other, put an elbow on the back of the bench, and clasped her hands together. "Ok… help with what?"

"When Paddy fell, when he… got shot," Maura said tactfully, "he kept telling me something - 'hope,' he said, over and over again."

"And does that mean somethin' to you?" Jane asked, and Maura could tell that she was staring intently, even behind her aviators.

"I think it's my birth mother's name," she said. "And I think I might be ready to try and find her."

Jane raised her eyebrows in a gentle surprise. "That's big. You got anything else? To go off of, I mean. The more details you give me, the more help I can be."

Maura smiled warmly at Jane's eagerness. "Well, I have my birthdate, and her first name, where she went to college. I'm going to think on things a little bit, but if I need you, I want you to be ready."

"I'm always ready," Jane said. She reached in the bag for a few of the fresh grapes they'd purchased as a pretense for giving Maura time to rest. She let the juice coat her tongue, reveled in the sweetness, though she'd never tell Maura that she preferred fresh, organic fruits and vegetables to the stuff in the supermarket. Not long into her snack, her phone vibrated on her hip. "Speakin' of birth mothers," she said as she held up her iphone, "mine's texting." she read Angela's message, and then huffed. "Alright, here's the thing - you can back out now, no harm no foul. By the time we get home, I'll forget we ever said anything about dating. But if you don't, you've got a family meeting waiting for you tonight. No rain checks allowed."

Maura put her hand over Jane's knee and grinned. "Oh Jane," she said, "you know my attendance would be required whether we were dating or not."

Jane chuckled. "Yeah I guess so. Sucks to be you."

* * *

Jane knew not to trust the calm that stole over Maura's home in the hour before Angela had promised them a meal and an awkward conversation. She also knew that she should not have taken a nap beforehand, because naps made her irritable and her mother deserved more than irritability when their meeting was more than likely about her father.

She mused, as she pulled her jeans back on, rising gingerly from the left side of Maura's bed, that her father was an _asshole_. When did he get like this? Was he always like this? Were all the good parts of him that she had believed in a lie? She feared what exactly her mother would say, what more her mother would reveal about him when the rest of the Rizzoli family bounded into the kitchen downstairs.

"Is it time to wake up?" Maura called from behind her groggily, very un-Maura-like.

Jane took a little heart in the crisp rustle of the sheets as Maura lifted her head. "You don't have to wake up at all. This is your house. You wanna skip out, you just say the word and I'll tell them you don't feel up to it," she said, "but I'm gonna get up. If I'm not at the ready with a spatula or a spoon, I'm gonna get an earful."

"I'll join you," Maura replied, but then she hugged her pillow closer, "in a few minutes."

"A'right," Jane accepted. She straightened her t-shirt and ran her fingers through her hair and made her way downstairs.

Angela waited for her at the kitchen island with a wooden spoon outstretched towards her. "Sleep good?" She asked Jane cheekily, turning her back to her to check on the water running in the sink.

"I got hit by a truck the day before yesterday," Jane stated, "all I did I was sleep. You must have some bad news if you're busting out the homemade dough." She pointed to the thawed, rolled out ball of pasta, heavily floured, resting on the counter.

"We'll talk when your brothers get here. Cut the dough," Angela ordered, "I'm making the meat sauce like you like."

Jane, for all her complaints of her mother's smothering, savored these quiet moments between them when neither of them felt the need to perform for anyone else. Today, it allowed her to study the hurt on Angela's face, despite the way she tried to smile for her child's sake. For the first time, Jane thought her mother looked older, older even than the twenty years she had on Jane. "He's a jerk. You deserve better."

Angela shook her head to banish tears away. "Speakin' of deserving," she said quietly, browning crumbled Italian sausage. "You better have had a better conversation with Maura than 'Ok but I'm less sorry.' She deserves that much."

Jane glared. "When I say 'butt out,' what do you hear? Because your ass is definitely still deep in my business, Ma."

"Don't talk to me like that, Jane. I'm your mother," Angela scolded. Mother sounded like _mothah_ and Jane was transported back to her childhood kitchen.

"A'right a'right. I'm sorry. Not that you need to know, but she and I hashed some things out while we were wandering the hinterlands of Western Mass. And then we hashed out some more things while we were out this morning."

"Oh? Anything you'd like to share?" Angela poked, eyes once wet with sadness and now lit up with mischief and hope.

"We'll talk when my brothers get here," Jane mocked. "Hey Ma, _basta_ ," she pleaded when Angela squeezed her pink cheek.

Maura descended the stairs and entered the kitchen just in time to see the display. She smiled in sympathy. "I take it things are going well with dinner?" she asked, in her own attempt to save Jane from Angela's attention.

"They are," Angela laughed, taking pity on Jane and moving back to her sauce. "How's your leg?"

"Sore from walking this morning, but looking healthier by the hour. Would you like to see?" Maura had already bent down to pull up her pant leg.

"No, no!" Jane and Angela waved her off at the same time.

"I believe you, honey," Angela said sweetly, too sweetly. "Maybe after we've eaten."

Jane chuckled in the handsome way that showed all her teeth and narrowed her eyes. It was deep and slow. "Yeah, no Frankenstein at the dinner table."

"Says the woman who has made me close a bullet hole at the dinner table," Maura retaliated. She shrugged her shoulders when she walked past Jane to put the pasta into the boiling water.

"La la la - I'm not hearing this!" Angela put her fingers in her ears.

Jane huffed. "Thanks for ratting me out," she said to Maura. Then she pointed at her mother. "It wasn't a big deal, I just got clipped. That's all. This was a couple years ago."

"How many times have you been shot?!" Angela cried out. The door behind them opened when she said, "you know what, I don't wanna know. Don't tell me."

"Four times," Frankie Jr. answered anyway, having just stepped into the house with Tommy in tow. "Janie's been shot four times. At work anyway." He winked at his sister's angry face.

"That sounds like a shit job," Tommy quipped. He picked a piece off of the mozzarella ball waiting on the counter and popped it in his mouth.

"Hey," both Jane and Frankie said. Maura delighted in the Rizzoli family's penchant for simultaneous exclamation.

* * *

Angela, an hour later, placed the finished lasagna on the table. "It's Tuesday. There hasn't been a Patriots game for two days, and there is zero football on today. How is it that you all can find a channel that is nothing but Patriots talk?"

"We play Thursday, Ma, that's only two days from now," Tommy called behind his shoulder on the couch where he and his siblings sat, all six eyes still glued to the screen. "Gotta know the game plan."

"No you don't, you're not a player. You sit down, you eat, you watch. That is your role. Now turn that off before I come turn it off for you."

The three Rizzoli siblings got up from the sofa, varying heights, but all tall. Maura, who worked on a report at the writer's desk directly behind them, used her laptop screen to obscure the way she stared. Each brother was six feet, and Jane barely an inch and a half below them - they all commanded the room in different ways because of it. Tommy swaggered into it with the confidence of someone who owned his stature, who moved in it with natural sexuality. Frankie's unassuming attitude belied his height, but the closer you got to him, the more safe, protected you felt by his size. Jane stood with her broad shoulders back and drew all attention to her hips with the way she carried herself, and when you could finally drag your eyes back up to hers, you realized how long of a journey it was. By then she had anyone and everyone hooked. And Maura was hooked by all of them. She slammed her MacBook shut to rattle herself out of her fantasy.

When they had all made it to the table, the meal could truly begin. And to go with all their sexy height, the Rizzolis employed all their sexy manners. They didn't have manners the way Maura was taught them, endless rules and stylized routine, no. They had kindness in the way that Jane cut into the pasta first, but turned to her mother and asked, "you want the corner piece?"

She nodded and held out her plate, and Jane served her. Frankie then wordlessly passed Tommy a piece of bread buttered just the way he liked it and took the spatula from Jane. "I got it, Janie," he said. He cut Jane the biggest piece from the middle and winked at Maura when he gave her one half that size. It was a flurry of siblings serving each other and their mother, a chaotic goodness.

"Oh shit," Tommy cursed, definitely not mannerly in the way Constance and Arthur would have expected a child to speak, but when he brought out the pitcher of water to fill everyone's cups, Maura melted all the same. Then it dawned on her that it was passion like this, passion for love, that had been missing her whole life. Suddenly _slow_ did not seem at all like the right way to go with Jane. She stifled that thought.

"So…" Jane started when they all had taken at least a few bites. "Not that I don't like lookin' at all of you, but why are we here?"

"Yeah, Ma, what's goin' on?" Frankie asked. "Lasagna seems pretty fancy for a Tuesday."

Angela put her fork down on the edge of her plate in the motherly way she always did when she had something important to say. "Your father left Boston this morning," she said.

Maura bit the inside of her cheek when she looked at Tommy. _Please don't ask me anything please don't ask me anything,_ she repeated in her head. She continued to eat as if she weren't hearing the conversation beginning to sizzle around her.

"Where the hell did he go?" Jane asked. She turned to Tommy when Angela didn't answer right away. "Where does he go, Tom?"

"I know he's got an apartment in Florida," Tommy said quietly, "that's where he spends most of his time."

"Where?" Frankie demanded.

"I don't know," said Tommy. "I've never been. But he pays for Lydia to go see him sometimes, or he comes to see her here."

"Wait a minute. Lydia lives here?" Jane interrogated him around a mouthful of food. "How exactly do you know her?"

Maura blushed with the secret she carried. Luckily, Angela saved her. "Uh uh. I don't wanna talk about her. We're not talking about her. What I wanted to tell you is that I told him that I am under no circumstances signing the annulment paperwork. And I need you kids to stand firm with me on this. Your Daddy likes to divide and conquer you. He knows that if he gets one of you alone, it's easier to make you do what he wants." Fair or not, everyone looked at Tommy. He didn't deny it.

"Well we can't help him with the papers, Ma," said Frankie.

"No, but he can get you to try and guilt me into it," Angela responded. "And that's what he's going to do. He's going to try and make you wear me down. Like he always does. But I am asking you three to resist him and let my decision be my decision," she said, her voice finally breaking at the end.

Jane patted her mother's wrist gently. "Course, Ma. Of course we will. You're right, it's your decision." Maura threaded her fingers with Jane's other hand under the table.

Tommy and Frankie shared their own forms of agreement, and then the table settled into a comfortable silence of recovery for a short time.

Maura and Jane stayed as they were, Jane eating with her left hand, Maura with her right, and eventually Tommy noticed. "Hey Janie," he said about fifteen minutes after their discussion about Frank Sr., his smile wicked, "anything you wanna share now that we're all together?"

She looked genuinely confused. "What?"

"I think she shared it on Saturday when she opened the door on us with that big ass thing on her neck," Frankie snickered. He flickered his eyes toward his sister and then immediately down again so that her ire wouldn't melt away his humor.

"You guys are assholes, you know that?" Jane asserted, the realization dawning on her. "Just big, gaping assholes."

"Jane," Angela warned. "Your brothers just want to be happy for you. Let them be happy for you. I wanna be happy for you, too."

Maura pulled her hand away from Jane's so that she could cross her arms in front of her plate on the table. She wanted so badly to needle Tommy and Frankie a little bit, make them a little uncomfortable, but she recognized that Jane needed to take the lead.

"Maura and I are… exploring a relationship, alright? Very _tentatively_ exploring," Jane huffed out, visibly flustered. "So now that you've made me announce it to the world, how about you back off?"

It wasn't to be, of course, not with the Rizzolis. Angela congratulated them in a joyous, booming Italian, and Frankie clapped vigorously - Tommy actually whistled. Maura laughed, indulging in the raucous attention, and Jane slumped her head to the table. But for a moment, for the rest of the night, they forgot all about fathers and their schemes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As we move through seasons 3 and 4, episodes and plotlines will be skipped for the sake of the story I am telling. Casey doesn't really exist anymore in this universe, and neither does Dennis Rockmond. The rest of the story (as well as the beginning of it, really) exists to explore the themes of family, loyalty, and love.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, Jane and Cavanaugh are moderate Boston democrats. Because most people on the East Coast are moderate democrats. It's kind of baked into the culture. This is a very American topic and has very specific American implications, but you get the picture. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos!

Angela, amongst an array of lawn signs and oversized campaign buttons, turned the volume way up on her laptop to hear Tom MacGregor, Jr., candidate for U.S. Congress, talk about healthcare reform. "We gotta build on what the ACA started," he said in his typically Southie cadence to a rally crowd of several hundreds, "it paves the way for universal coverage and protects people with pre-existing conditions. But we got a lot more work to do in terms of makin' healthcare even more transparent."

"You tell 'em, Tom!" Angela shouted with a fist in the air, which jolted Maura from her preoccupation with the packages that had delivered the evening before. "Sorry," Angela apologized, "was that too loud? I just get excited about protecting the ACA because it's the only way so many people can stay insured."

"I like your enthusiasm," Maura smiled the genuine smile that few got to see. In fact, these days, really only Rizzolis got to see it, and it was mirrored on Angela's face.

"I really like Tom MacGregor Jr. Good Scottish lad from an old Boston family, politics in his blood," Angela explained, "homegrown progressive values." She eyed Maura, watching for discomfort or for disdain.

"I'm glad you've found a candidate you can get behind," said Maura, ever the diplomat. She returned to her pile of gear on the counter, some for diving, some for hiking, and kicked herself for ordering so much at one time. Retail therapy or not, where was she going to put it all?

Angela would not be deterred, however. And sometimes, when her more subtle methods did not work, she went for the jugular. So to speak. "You and Janie discuss politics?"

This pulled Maura right out of her shopping conundrum. "We… we discuss everything. I will admit politics has not been at the forefront of our more recent discussions, however."

"You know she's a Democrat, right?" Angela plowed through. She could tolerate many things in in-laws, but support for the preservation of power for the rich was not one of them. She'd been thinking a lot about Jane and Maura's long term, even though Jane had told her they were taking it _very_ slowly, and this was one thing that needed to be out of the way.

"Yes!" Maura said happily, relieved to know the answer to one of Angela's interrogation questions. "Maybe not as progressive as I'd like on the environment or prison reform, yet, but we can work on that, can't we?"

Angela laughed in equal parts relief for herself and pity for Jane. "We certainly can. She doesn't like to advertise that at work because it's not really a…"

"Friendly environment?" Maura supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, we'll go with that. Sean, Lieutenant Cavanaugh, is the same way. Old Irish catholic democrat through and through. But god forbid you try to talk to him about what he stands for, especially at work. He's quiet as the grave," Angela replied on the ends of her giggles.

Maura was about to ask how Angela knew Lieutenant Cavanaugh so well when none other than Jane walked through the front door. Her keys jingled in her hand as she stuffed them back in her pocket, and the other two women shared a smile. Maura actually winked.

"Holy crap, Ma, where's the counter?" Jane must have had her morning coffee, given her spirited entrance. "Glitter? Really?"

"It's festive!" Angela said in defense of herself.

"It's hard to clean up!" Jane retorted, looking at Maura as if to apologize. Maura shrugged as if to say there was no need for one. She walked around toward the other side of the kitchen island, trying on her scuba mask, when Jane gasped at the equipment in front of her. "What's goin' on here?" she asked, holding up the tubing for the oxygen supply, "maximum depth 180 feet? Who are you, James Cameron? Maura, at least he's certified."

"I haven't had time to take the course," Maura replied quietly.

"I hope you don't plan on making me take it," Jane said. "Would it be before or after your 'outback lady walk'?" She walked the hiking boot in the air and grabbed the safari hat from its box. "Ooh. Are you also in the remake of Out of Africa?" she asked as she put it on her head.

"Ok, meanie. Give me that," Maura reached out for the hat, mosquito netting and all, yanking Jane forward by her tucked in t-shirt. Jane smiled with her lips closed and her crow's feet out as she surrendered the hat. The scrutiny of the smile, combined with its intention to disarm, and its place on Jane's very good-looking face, made Maura unsteady. She put the hat on to break whatever tension was forming.

Jane stalked closer anyway - using her larger than average hand, she palmed the dome of the hat like a basketball and pulled it off of Maura's head. "I stay at my place for a weekend and all of the sudden you're redecorating? What's all this for?"

"Leave Maura alone, Janie," Angela said from across the island as she prepped her signs with glitter. "You're not her mother. She can buy what she wants."

"Sure she can," Jane replied. "But she… wait a minute," her eyes were back on Maura again, "c'mere." She took her by the arm to the privacy of the front hall, right in front of the bathroom. "That's what this is about - you buying all that stuff. It's about Hope, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Maura said without looking at Jane.

"Yes, you do, baby. Whenever you get in a crisis, you get on a first-name basis with the UPS man. Remember when I shot myself and you decided to invite Ron to Thanksgiving? Ron the delivery guy who has his own family out in Dorchester to spend Thanksgiving with?"Jane really was masterful at interrogation when she wanted to be. Even Maura wasn't immune. "It's time to find her."

"No, I don't know," Maura shook her head, wavering.

"You asked me to be ready to help you. That was almost a week ago, and you haven't so much as said her name to me since. But clearly you are in your feelings about it."

"No, I mean, only sixty-five percent of children seek out their biological parents. Maybe I'm meant to be in the other thirty-five."

"Yeah, the other thirty-five having an identity crisis," Jane said, taking Maura's neck in her hand and trailing her thumbpad up and down the length of her throat. "Let me take care of it. Say the word and I'll find her. Considering it's the only thing I can do for you right now."

Maura closed her eyes at the clearly sexual display, electrified by its softness and all that it promised. "That's not the only thing you can do for me. Just because we can't sleep together until tonight does not mean that we can't coexist. Or that you can't do nice things."

"I can barely coexist!" Jane said, stamping her foot, "I haven't touched you since you wanted to stomp on my neck. I'm dyin' over here. I had to sleep in my own bed this weekend because sleepin' in yours was like sleepin' in a volcano."

Maura chuckled, and Jane felt the pretty waves of it against her hand. Their reverie was broken when Jane's phone buzzed on her belt - her hand dropped to her side and pulled up the iPhone. "Rizzoli. Yeah. Ok, I'll be right there. I got Dr. Isles with me." dispatch, no doubt, with the way her face turned serious. "C'mon, we got a case."

They ambled back into the living area so that Maura could grab her purse and her medical bag, and so that Jane could say goodbye to her mother. "You two off to work already?" Angela said sadly, hoping to have had some coffee with them before they left.

"Yup," said Jane, "Oh hey, you can take your safari vest, Maura, since our body's out by Franklin Park." Maura wanted to retaliate against the teasing but Jane's subtle _pahk_ made it hard to do anything but smile goofily.

"Walk, before I drive us there," was all she could manage as she watched Jane's hips sway all the way out the door.

* * *

"We should at least talk about it some more," Jane said, continuing their conversation from the car. They headed toward an alley behind a strip mall, the area already secured and full of law enforcement.

"What's there to talk about? My birth mother was an unwed college student sneaking around with a Southie gangster," said Maura. Her hot pink blazer brought out the vibrancy of her green eyes when they walked in the sun.

"So? That's at least interesting," Jane responded, "My mother married the neighborhood plumber. The only sneakin' around she did was in Filene's basement. Even our sneakin' is more noteworthy than that."

Maura smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Paddy Doyle, _my father-"_

"In sperm only," Jane corrected.

"Yeah, who is waiting to be tried for 15 murders, told Hope that I died at birth. Help me understand how that could make for a successful reunion," Maura finished. They'd nearly reached their victim and Korsak waved them over.

"Ok, but don't you at least wanna know somethin' about her? Anything?" Jane asked kindly, her hand flat on Maura's back.

"No!" Maura shouted, too nasally and too forced, and suddenly Jane's long index finger pushed her all the way backwards until she hit a dumpster.

" _You_. You found her, didn't you?" Jane accused. "You did. You and I were gonna do this together! And don't even pretend - you are gonna get the worst case of hives if you lie."

"I had her first name, her age, where she went to college… my birth date. I couldn't help it," Maura whined.

Jane sighed noisily. "You did the gumshoe thing without me. When you specifically told me you wanted my help _doing_ the gumshoe thing."

Maura stepped into Jane now that they weren't a Rizzoli arm's length apart. "Sometimes my impulsivity gets the better of me. Don't be mad." Jane glared theatrically to prove a point. "My sutures are going to be removed after work," Maura continued, hoping to coax a smile from her, "don't ruin our reunion by being upset."

Jane swallowed thickly and all pretense left her. She looked at Maura's lips desperately, covered in the lip gloss she liked so much and parted just so, and groaned. "Like nine hours?"

"I'd say that's a fair estimate, yes. Nine hours from now we-"

"I'm sure whatever you're discussin' is riveting, but our victim, white female, looks like her hands have been blowtorched," Korsak interrupted with a loud throat clear and pointed to the dumpster right behind Jane and Maura.

"I'm gonna make sure you never get within 100 feet of a woman again," Jane threatened him with gritted teeth. "Ever. The hell's wrong with you?"

He only cackled with his gloved hands in the air. "Didn't realize it was _that_ riveting. Wanna see ID?"

She continued to glower, but then reached out for the driver's license in his hand. "What's the point of burnin' her hands if you leave the ID?"

"No clue," Korsak said. "Celia Jaffe, 27, is what it says."

Jane walked over to where Maura had donned a Tyvek suit and climbed into the dumpster with the body. "What're you seein'?"

"Lividity indicates she died after midnight and was dumped here shortly after," Maura explained.

Jane picked up the victim's right hand. "Well, good thing we got an ID because we're not getting any prints off these."

Frost, who had conveniently stayed away for most of the initial investigation of the burned body, looked away when he spoke to Jane. "I'll find out if she has a husband or a boyfriend," he said, already starting toward his car.

"Let's get her photographed and get her outta here," Jane ordered. Maura nodded, and several techs walked over to do as told.

* * *

Jane tapped a pen against the grain of her desk, chin in her hand and boot tapping the linoleum.

"You've been distracted all morning," Frost told her, rocking back in his chair as he was wont to do. "Is it the Paddy stuff?"

She stopped her tapping and crossed her arms. "Eh. He's well enough to be transferred to Walpole. That's actually where Maura wants him."

"So what is it then?" He asked. He tossed her the stress ball he'd been squeezing.

She caught it. "Maura found her birth mom."

Now he leaned forward. "She found Hope?"

"How do you know about Hope?" Jane asked him severely.

Frost rolled his eyes. "You're not her only friend, you know. You especially weren't her only friend when you two were at each others' throats. Is she nice? Is she anything like Maura?"

"They haven't met yet," said Jane. Then she panicked for a moment. "I don't think, anyway."

"So then why are you so bent out of shape?"

"It's stupid."

"Alright, if you say so."

"A'right a'right," Jane put her hands out, giving the game up without any pressure from her partner, "she asked me to help her find Hope when the time came, but then the time came and I had no idea that she had even been looking."

"Really? You've been so far up her…" when Jane nearly lunged over their desks at him, Frost quickly altered course. "You two have been so close the past week or so that I figured you'd be tellin' each other everything."

Jane had to give him that. "Yeah, me too. But then this morning I found out that she'd looked her up all on her own."

"And that rubbed you the wrong way," Frost supplied. He actually waved his hand as if to beckon her to continue.

"What're you, my shrink? Yeah, it rubbed me the wrong way, but just because she asked for help. But I'm not gonna take it personal. If they do meet, it'll be turning her life upside down and I probably just need to be there to pick up the pieces," Jane said. Her chin was back in her hand and she huffed.

"Well that's very adult of you," he smirked, "so, things are good then?"

Jane stood up and pushed her chair without taking her blazer. "Things are good. I'm gonna go check how the autopsy's goin' before you get any more outta me." She smirked at him over her shoulder as she waited for the elevator and he waved her away with his own smile on his face.

* * *

The ride to the basement filled Jane with a familiar sense of yearning and a quickly familiarizing sense of hesitance. She stepped out with haste, the need to see Maura outweighing the awkwardness of their last conversation. As she swerved past the criminalists marching to and from the crime lab, she caught sight of Maura on her laptop, but couldn't make out the display on her screen through the blinds of her office. She took a breath and then walked into the room. "What're you doin'?" she asked.

"Checking the weather," Maura obfuscated, quickly slamming the computer shut.

Jane snorted. "Yeah, ok," she said, still standing, reaching for the computer.

Maura snatched it away and threw it under a pillow on the sofa. "What? I said, checking the weather!" she snapped.

"Ok, ok - Jesus," Jane couldn't help the bark of laughter that ensued. She looked down at the coffee table to see a large frame under some case files. "Why aren't you examining the body?" she asked Maura to distract her. When Maura sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, Jane exposed the frame with the drawing of Hope inside. "I knew it! The weather? Really?"

"It's the daily forecast on her Wikipedia page," Maura explained, opening the computer back up.

"Whose page?" Jane sat down next to her and saw Hope for the first time. "Oh my God, Maura. She looks just like you," she said as her jaw literally fell open.

"You mean I look like her," Maura said. "Her name is Hope. _Doctor_ Hope Martin."

Jane leaned in to get a better view of the picture next to her biography. "She's kinda hot," she said, squinting.

Maura exhaled, and took Jane's face in her hands to kiss her. Their lips clung together and Jane hummed when Maura ran her fingernails over her cheeks. "Don't make me jealous of a woman I've never even met. Who is also my mother."

Jane turned back to the screen, Maura still touching her, and said, "She's kinda famous, too. ' founded an international relief agency, M.E.N.D.'"

"Medical Emergency Network for Doctors. Their mission is to treat women and children. Keep scrolling. See the forensic pathology residency she did in Sarajevo?" Maura asked. She ran her thumbs against the dimple in Jane's chin before placing her hands back in her lap.

"Yeah," Jane said, not sure if she was supposed to be impressed.

"She's done everything."

"So she identifies victims of genocide and saves women and children around the world. Big deal. You're just as accomplished, babe."

"No, I'm not," Maura said bashfully, "Paddy said she was brilliant."

"And recently divorced," Jane pointed to the screen.

"She has a daughter, Cailin, 18. She's been living abroad for the past twenty years," Maura said. Jane watched Maura's nose twitch to keep her from crying, and then she glanced toward the very un-autopsied body of their victim on one of the morgue tables.

"Ok, Celia Jaffe needs an autopsy and I need a cause of death, Maura," pleaded Jane, tapping all of her pent-up investigative energy onto Maura's knee.

Maura ignored it. "Hope even developed a technique to identify the victims of genocide that we are still using today."

Jane's eyes shot back to Celia's burned hands. "It's too bad she's not local. We could use her right about now." Maura continued to concentrate on the screen in front of her, oblivious to Jane's hints. Jane watched her with equal parts concern and love. "She's probably very curious about you, too. You've done lots of important things. You're also kinda hot. What's not to be curious about?"

Maura leaned forward and then back, a physical manifestation of her turmoil. "Why would she be curious? She doesn't even know I exist. Or maybe she does," she said, toggling to a tab with an article from The Globe about her relation to Paddy Doyle, "how could she not? She hasn't made any effort to contact me."

"Ok, Maura. Maybe she saw that and thinks Paddy was cheating on her and had a kid named Maura," said Jane, all the Irish names sounding foreign on her tongue. "Or maybe she only reads fancy French newspapers. Or maybe…" as Jane started, Maura could tell that this last one was the most plausible to her, "she hasn't thought of Doyle in the past thirty-six years."

"Or me," Maura presumed, resigned to Hope's utter indifference, even if she had no idea how Hope actually felt.

"Nah. I bet she thought about you every day, for a long time. And I bet she still thinks about you often, even now. Ma told me that kids become a parent's number one priority until they die. So somewhere deep down, you still gotta be Hope's priority," said Jane, never having birthed children or been a parent.

Maura shrugged, not sure if she wanted to be consoled, and started to close her laptop again.

Jane, who had been scanning it, reached out to stop her. "Wait a minute-"

"No, don't," Maura pleaded, just wanting to be done.

"Oh my god, she's back in Boston?!" Jane exclaimed, "I don't believe in coincidences; this is meant to be."

"I'd be turning her world upside down. For what?" Maura said.

Jane shook her head. "So she can have you in her life. Ok? Late is a million times better than never, and a life with you in it is better than any life without."

Maura blushed. "You're biased. And it's not if it causes her pain."

"What? Listen, you're my concern here, and look at the pain you're in," Jane pointed out. Maura had to concede this; knowing Hope existed and not being able to at least meet her was tearing her up inside. Jane let her hand be taken and intertwined with Maura's for comfort when her phone buzzed with a text. "Shit. I uh, I got a suspect upstairs. C'mon. Do the autopsy, ok? I need it and it'll make you feel better. Let's go. March, babe, march."

Maura, given over to melancholy, let herself be pulled up by the arms and her behind be patted in the direction of the autopsy suite.

* * *

An hour later, Maura, with her hair clipped back and her white coat on her shoulders, watched Jane enter the morgue through the glass of the shelves in front of her. She pushed through the double doors and took her place on the opposite side of the table where Celia Jaffe lay. She was fidgety, brimming with barely bridled impulse. She flitted her gaze down to the exposed skin of Maura's middle chest, probably unknowingly, if Maura had to guess. But she was so handcuffed by want the past week that she did it often, and Maura let her, if only to have at least a modicum of mercy. "What's wrong?" she asked Jane finally.

"Two things," Jane said, twisting her knuckle into the scar on her left palm to soothe the ache of it, "One. That ain't Celia Jaffe."

Maura looked down at the corpse with fresh eyes, her compartmentalization instant. "The ID was fake?"

Jane shook her head vigorously. "No. It was stolen. Probably by whoever she is," she waved toward the victim, "so now we're at square one with no prints."

Maura pursed her lips as she tried to think of solutions. "What was the second thing?"

Jane snarled. "BPD's got a new counselor for families of homicide victims. Wanna know who it is?"

"Who?"

"Sister Winifred Callahan. One of my old teachers and the meanest person I've ever met. Her desk is literally behind me in the bullpen." Jane threw her head back and her voicebox bobbed up and down like an apple in water and Maura started to sweat. Maybe Jane wasn't the only one who had needs.

"That sounds… unfortunate," Maura consoled, loath to see Jane dip her chin back toward the ground again. But, Jane hung her head in defeat and huffed.

"She's here doin' 'the Lord's Work.' That's what she said when she hit me with a ruler when I was seven because I misspelled 'flamboyant," she replied, and Maura saw some far off hurt in her eyes to go with all the annoyance.

"Why was 'flamboyant' on a second-grade spelling test at a Catholic school?" Maura asked in solidarity and true confusion.

"You know why, Maura." Jane narrowed her brow. "One kid in the class who doesn't like to pull girls' pigtails and talk about the Sox and all of a sudden we all gotta get a lesson in what 'flamboyant' means and why we should never be it. I also put my foot through a classroom window trying to kill a fly that year, so maybe me and Danny Alberti were two flamboyant peas in a pod."

"The church is…" Maura began, not sure how to finish her statement without offending Jane.

"Homophobic as shit," Jane did it for her. "And that's how they make the rest of us homophobic as shit, too. Start us young."

"I'm sorry that you were exposed to those types of attitudes growing up," said Maura. "My parents were very… bohemian in that way, I guess. With my mother being an artist, and my father a university professor, I didn't really see homophobia in that way. When I think about that, it makes me grateful for them. Like maybe I don't need to meet Hope after all. They could be enough."

Jane put both her gloved hands on the table and leaned forward. "It's not about that, about meeting her because your other parents aren't good enough. It's about putting all this uncertainty behind you."

"Let me tell you what I know," Maura smiled, leaning in, too. "She has a depressed skull fracture."

She pointed to the x-ray on the monitor by Jane's head and Jane followed her gaze. "Musta been a hefty weapon," she said as she saw the size and shape of the crack.

"Not a weapon," Maura clarified.

"So… she woke up this morning and after she brushed her teeth she thought, 'gee, my head really hurts'?" Jane teased.

"No… she has a countrecoup contusion from a fall," Maura said. She smirked. "'Countrecoup' means-"

"You gotta stop that - it's not my first rodeo. It means her brain bounced around inside her skull."

"After striking a hard object, yes."

"So, not a pillow then?" teased Jane.

"No - otherwise I'd have a massive coup-countrecoup injury from last weekend," Maura said, not looking Jane in the face, but grinning wickedly when she knew Jane would be looking at her.

"Uh, hmmm." Jane sputtered, most of her skin exposed to the light now a pinkish hue. "You, you can't say stuff like that. Not until…" she looked at her watch, "Whenever I get off work."

"Well, it takes longer when you make jokes," Maura retorted. She rotated the victim's hand in her own grip, examining each finger.

"Baby if I didn't joke, I'd poke my eyes out with a scalpel. Just so I didn't have to endure the torture of looking but not touching," Jane said. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Oh, I might have something," said Maura, and then they were all business again, "her fourth digit on her right hand isn't as badly burned as the others. I might be able to try a rehydration technique."

"You can get a print off that? Yikes. It looks like a charred tootsie roll," Jane said.

"I've never done it. I've only read about it in an article published by… her," Maura attested quietly.

"Well, perhaps we should call Dr. Hope Martin, then, since she's in the city," Jane said what Maura refused to.

"No!" Maura shouted, then revised, "no. I'll just try it myself." She squared her shoulders and snipped the finger free. "You have to detach the finger to rehydrate the tissue."

"A'right…" Jane followed as Maura placed the digit in a beaker and carried it over to a workstation at the lab. She printed a copy of the research paper by Dr. Martin and immediately got to work.

Jane watched with no small amount of awe as Maura took chemicals from a shelf in the back of the lab, put on goggles, and set out to measure and pour with pipettes and more containers. She knew that she could never be Maura's intellectual equal, not in this way. In the way that she had instinct for lies and for motives, Maura had instinct for reactions and chemical cause and effect. She had instinct for physics and for mathematics and for all the things that Jane struggled with. None of it came naturally to her, and she had busted her ass in high school to get grades good enough in the sciences to be accepted by BCU. But science was an extension of Maura's right, dominant hand. So when she cursed after the first trial, Jane was surprised.

"Shit," she said, "that wasn't it." She marched over to a glass writing board and began to chart chemical compounds.

"Shouldn't a crime lab tech be doin' this?" Jane asked. She wasn't sure they should if Maura couldn't figure it out, but maybe it'd be less stressful to delegate.

"No, stop criticizing," Maura snapped, "I tried potassium chloride but it was too destructive to the friction ridge skin."

"You only got one finger, Maura," Jane warned as she walked behind Maura back to the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maura asked with bite.

"It means you can't screw it up. So maybe you call Hope to do this."

"You don't think I can do this?"

Jane bit her tongue as she thought of something better to say than the reply that first popped into her head. "Ok look at it like this: So the Sox are in an elimination game in the playoffs. Who do they start?"

Maura wondered why she was being asked about baseball at a time like this, but she went along with it. "Clay Buccholz, obviously. His ERA and WHIP are by far the best on the team."

"Right. You're Clay Buccholz. But he can't go nine every time. He'd blow his arm out or he'd cough up all the leads he worked so hard to build. So if we need to relieve him, who do we throw in?" Jane asked, hands now on Maura's arms.

"That would be Koji Uehara. I suppose I don't need to explain to you why that would be," Maura guessed.

"Nah. This metaphor works because I know all the answers. Hope is Koji right now. Call her in because we have a game on the line and one chance to get it done," Jane replied.

"I also only have one biological mother and I'd rather not screw that up," Maura reasoned. She turned to the finger again with her new elixir and swirled it to bring out ridge detail. "Damn. The Ruffer rehydration method modified by Walker isn't working."

"You don't know how to do it," Jane said, moving back to the other side of the table and meeting Maura's eyes that way, hoping to will her point across.

"Yes, I do," Maura answered back petulantly.

"No, you don't," Jane shut her down. "You said you wanted to know her, ok? Meet her on a level playing field. Meet her here, as a colleague." When Maura didn't budge, Jane tried to implore for her own sake. Maura never refused Jane a favor. "I gotta find out who this woman is so I can find out who killed her." That also didn't work, so Jane pulled out her phone and started to dial.

"Who are you calling?" Maura finally asked.

"Dr. Pike. He'll help," Jane replied.

"Jane don't you dare call that knucklehead," Maura ordered.

"Just face whatever it is that's terrifying you, then!" Jane shouted. "Face her!"

Maura, always influenced by Jane's hot-blooded displays, bolted into action. She grabbed her phone. "Ok."

"Ok?" asked Jane, flummoxed that it was that easy.

"Ok. Ok, I'm going to do it. I am going to call her now."

"Like _now_ now?"

"Yes. Before I lose my nerve," Maura replied as she pressed the numbers.

"Ok," Jane said, still pleasantly surprised, "you don't wanna…?" she made a motion to represent practicing a conversation first.

"No, no. I am perfectly calm," said Maura, phone to her ear. "I am Dr. Maura Isles, the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonweal-" When a woman on the other end answered with _Dr. Martin,_ however, Maura silenced herself. She stared at Jane, her brash, Italian lifeline, for the briefest of seconds, then held out the phone to her.

"You - no, you have to do it!" Jane gasped, recoiling.

"No, no, no, I can't," Maura panicked. She threw the phone at Jane, who caught it.

" _Hello?"_ said the woman on the phone, and Jane transformed again.

The change was subtle, but her posture improved and her eyes got soft. "Hi, I'm calling from the office of Dr. Maura Isles, the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Could you hold for her please?" she shoved the phone back at Maura after her secretarial performance.

"I can't, I can't," begged Maura, and Jane was about to hang up when the tiniest, most helpless "please," fell from her lips. She pulled the blackberry to her ear again and cleared her throat. "I'm _so_ sorry. I hate cell phones, don't you? We're trying to identify a Jane Doe. Would you be willing to do a consult? Half an hour would be fine. Thank you so much!" She finally did hang up, fully aware of what she had just done to Maura, and winced.

"A half hour? Are you out of your mind?" Maura screeched, and her hyperventilation response kicked in.

Jane grimaced. "You can do it."

"No-"

"Yes you can, you can do this," Jane said, hands defensively out in front of her. "Take it slow, ok? Remember, right now you're just passin' the ball. Just hand the ball off."

"Oh god," Maura groaned.

"Ok, ok, you need to get ahold of yourself. Take off the coat, spritz on some perfume, and let's powerwalk up to the cafe because like it or not, we're doin' this. _Now,_ " Jane's pep talk moved from soothing to ass-busting, and if Maura weren't so distraught, she might have found it endearing. Instead she moved on autopilot, following Jane's instructions as they moved from the lab, to her office, to the elevator.

"Is it too late to call in sick?" Maura asked when they exited onto the ground floor, "I don't think I can do this."

Jane touched her wrist reassuringly as they entered the cafe from the BPD employees' side. "What? No, you can - oh my god! Ma!"

Angela Rizzoli, in a campaign shirt, had set up an information center and one-stop shop for Tom MacGregor in the entire back wing of the cafe. There were posters, streamers, buttons, and even volunteers. "What?" she asked, sounding both innocent and annoyed.

"Cavanaugh is gonna kill you; BPD hates Tom MacGregor - he's soft on crime," Jane whined as she waved her arms at all the political paraphernalia.

Maura was momentarily distracted by confusion. "You're going to vote for him," she said to Jane.

"So is Sean," Angela shrugged.

"Yeah, and if he finds out you set this up and somehow it gets associated with him - wait," Jane interrupted her own rant, "Sean?"

Angela diverted expertly, wrapping a motherly arm around Maura's shoulders. "Honey," she said, ignoring Jane, "don't you want to at least meet her?"

Maura walked with mother and daughter toward the counter, and daughter dropped her previous line of questioning because mother was taking care of Maura. "Well, obviously I'm curious. But I don't need a mother," Maura said, "I have a mother."

"What can I get you?" asked Angela, in typical Angela fashion. "Have a coffee. That always makes Janie feel better."

"Do you have those green-label organic beans?" Maura responded timidly.

"Of course," Angela smiled, half at Maura's request and half at Jane's hand on Maura's elbow.

"Make it extra hot," said Maura, now emboldened by feeling so understood. "And 1 percent milk, not 2 percent."

"Flat, with just a hint of foam? Yes, baby," Angela chuckled and got to work.

"And a spoon, please. No coffee stirrer."

"There's an aftertaste," a feminine voice called from behind them, and they all turned around. At the entrance of the cafe, in a mint green designer dress and a floral Hermés scarf draped across her shoulders, stood a woman who looked exactly like Maura. "Most coffee stir sticks are made from 100 percent birch wood. There are no chemicals, or toxins, or glazes, but the birch plant is known to be bitter - thus the slightly unpleasant aftertaste." She talked like Maura too, with an explanation for something as banal and yet complicated as Maura's distaste for coffee stirrers.

Jane stood straighter by the phrase - Maura felt her growing taller next to her and even though she felt a twinge of guilt, she drew comfort from Jane turning into Detective Rizzoli. "You must be Dr. Martin," said Jane cooly and kindly. "Hi. I'm Detective Jane Rizzoli," she introduced herself, long arm reaching out to shake Hope's hand. Maura registered the fleeting signs of shock on her birth mother's face at the strength of it, the firmness of it, and she shivered with anticipation and more than a little bit of thrill. Her… Jane was shaking her… mother's hand and her mother was impressed by Jane's assertion. It was a juvenile pride, but it took hold of Maura anyway.

"And I'm Angela. I'm Jane's mom," Angela said, her hand much more soft in Hope's. Hope smiled brightly at her.

"And this," said Jane, words sweet and reverent, "is Dr. Maura Isles."

"What a pleasure," said Hope, facing Maura and clearly taken with her, "I am flattered that you would want a consult."

Maura took shelter in science because it had always given it to her. "I've tried so many formulas: tetrodotoxin, glucose, methylene-"

"Dr. Isles, are you all right?" Hope interjected, concern in her voice, as she pointed to Maura's neck. Hives quickly spread across her skin.

"Why? Because I'm talking too much, too fast, and not making any sense?" Maura asked.

"You're showing signs of urticaria," Hope responded.

"Oh! You have hives!" said Angela.

"Oh shit, Maura," Jane slipped back into herself for a moment, hand firm and repetitive across Maura's back, not sure how the strokes would help the reaction, but trying it anyway.

"It must be because you, uh, you ate the brazil nuts," Angela said, rather unhelpfully, but valiantly.

It took everything within Jane not to roll her eyes. "Yeah, Dr. Isles. How many times do we have to tell you to avoid brazil nuts?" Detective Rizzoli was back again.

"Do you have your EpiPen?" Hope asked a very common sense question, but because Maura had such trouble lying, she could only point in the vague direction of downstairs. "Alright," said Hope then, "I would very much like to see your victim, so we should head in that direction."

"And I, uh, I have a lot of work to do upstairs. So I'm gonna go," said Jane. Maura begged her silently not to go, not to leave her, but Jane really did need to work. She squeezed Maura's elbow one more time. "I'll call ya later," she said quietly, almost privately, in an easy North End accent, and then winked as if to wish Maura good luck.

Maura was petrified instead when Hope walked next to her and they took the other elevator down. "It's quite something, isn't it? The accent here?" Hope asked probably to pass the time. "To be back in Boston after over twenty years, after having lived in London for so long, has been quite the homecoming. Something I just accepted as the norm when I was growing up, as how people talked, becomes fascinating when you can trace it from its roots. When you can hear its ancestor and then compare the two."

"Jane code switches," Maura spouted, almost as a confession. Her compulsion to state anything about Jane when nervous, or scared, or excited, or aroused, reared itself. "Here, she rarely falls into her more comfortable regional variation."

Hope nodded as the elevator dinged and Maura showed her the lab. "It's hard for women in the workplace for many reasons, but we are not afforded the same luxury as some men to be perceived as working class."

Maura let the conversation take its course because it felt benign. "Yes. And yet, if she's perceived as too affluent, that could mean loss of respect and therefore loss of safety for her, too. It's an unfair double standard."

"Well said. Should we start?" asked Hope, her smile bright.

* * *

"And I came up with this rehydration technique because we were so desperate to identify the bodies," Hope, after an hour of creating and explaining, and then demonstrating, the chemical solution used to rehydrate the tissue of the victim's digit, began to narrate its origins.

"After the genocide in Sarajevo?" Maura asked, rapt with attention.

"Yes. And then we had to use it again to identify entire Kurdish families slaughtered by Saddam Hussein," Hope said.

"So, what made you go from your medical internship to Sarajevo?"

"Maybe I was punishing myself. Maybe I didn't believe that I could save people, but I knew that I could speak for the dead," Hope uttered wistfully.

The sentiment rattled in Maura's soul. "Well, I wish that I could speak for her. She's someone's daughter," she added poignantly.

"That's what drives me. Everyone is someone's child," said Hope.

"You… you said you were punishing yourself. For what?" Maura hoped that her question wasn't as obvious as it sounded to her own ears.

"Something stupid I did when I was eighteen. I hope my daughter has better judgment than I did then."

"What did you do?"

"I… got pregnant and the baby died at birth," Hope said with a broken pitch, "It was terrible and traumatic. But… maybe there was a reason that she didn't survive. Her father was, well, an evil man."

Maura bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood to keep from crying. "I'm sorry," she said once she had regained decorum, "I didn't mean to pry."

"I never talk about this," Hope confessed. "I spend so many years trying to forget. Maybe it's because you're a doctor, but I feel a strange kinship with you."

"Me too," Maura whispered, not trusting her vocal folds to stay loyal. Luckily, before she tested them even more, Jane burst in from upstairs.

"I got nothin' up there," she said, nearly breathless, eyes only on Maura. Her arms were wide to accommodate her badge and firearm, and her hair was clearly just rustled through because it looked wilder than usual. It was a moment of disarmed and desperate Jane, one that usually only Maura got to see. When Jane noticed Hope there, remembered who she was, she blushed. "Tell me you're seeing whorls and ridges," she said, now a good professional woman and remembered to say all her Rs and nasal velars.

"We are," Hope said to her, glasses halfway down the bridge of her nose and with a knowing smirk. "And there is excellent ridge detail."

Jane glanced at Maura for permission, and as soon as it was granted to her, she took the finger. "Ok, let me see if it scans," she said, and it did. "That's a good print. Well done, doctors."

Hope turned to Maura and hugged her in celebration, tightly and with several pats to her back. This proved overwhelming, and Maura let go of the tears she had tried so hard to hold in moments before. She cried openly on Hope's shoulder. "Oh my," exclaimed Hope, pulling back in concern, trying to read Maura's grief-contorted features.

Jane herself broke at the sight. "She uh, she gets very emotional when we break a case wide open," she lied for Maura, restrained herself from going to her.

"Yes, I do," Maura affirmed the lie through a wet sob, reaching out for Jane unconsciously, and Jane supplied her with a tissue. "Thank you," she said, both for the Kleenex and the save from collapsing rather gracelessly into the arms of her new lover in front of her stranger of a biological mother.

"How lovely," Hope commented as she removed the white coat Maura had let her borrow and redonned her scarf. "Well, I'm sorry, but I have to go pick up my daughter."

"Thank you so much, Dr. Martin," Jane said.

"You are very welcome," said Hope, turning to Maura. "Dr. Isles, I would very much like to have lunch some time."

"Of course," said Maura politely when she had recovered. "You have my information."

"Let's make it sooner rather than later. I really, really enjoyed it," and with that, Hope departed.

Jane, as soon as she had rounded the corner, bounded over to Maura and gathered her into her arms. One hand stroked her shoulder and the other thumbed circles on the small of her back. "Maura," she cooed, "that was so beautiful. When are you gonna tell her?"

Maura unraveled at the way Jane felt against her, like safety when her words nestled deep into the hair just above her ear. "Never," she sobbed. "Never ever, never ever, never ever."


	15. Chapter 15

"So calling in Dr. Martin worked, huh?" Frost swiveled toward Jane in his seat at one of the computers in BRIC. He reserved a dazzling smile for her, until he saw the mixture of exhaustion and worry on her face.

"Uh, for us, yeah," she replied, finding a perch on the desk just across from him. "Maura's a wreck, though."

"Did they not get along?" Frost asked. He was a good man, his concern earnest.

Jane appreciated this in him. "No they did. Hope loved her. But now Maura's convinced she can never spill the beans because she likes Hope too much to hurt her feelings."

"Well shit," said Frost. "And how is that workin' out for you?"

"You're lookin' at the world's best piece picker-upper," Jane snarked. "Seein' her like that makes me sad, Frost. I dunno."

Frost acknowledged her statement, but also her desire to move on as she looked only to the wall of screens in front of them. "So, the print was good. Came up for an Emma Spencer, 27, just like Celia Jaffe. She works at the DA's office and she was supposed to take this year's bar."

"That's why we got her prints," Jane reasoned. Frankie approached from the bullpen with a sour look on his face, with Sister Winifred Callahan mumbling something behind him. "How's Sister Callahan been?"

"Fuckin' crazy," Frost said in a rare moment of ire. "She's drivin' us nuts. Nothing pleases her."

"Get used to that," Jane chuckled.

Frankie yanked the door to BRIC open with a whoosh. "I'm quittin'," he announced, hat in his hand and scowl on his face. "I can't take it. I almost ran away in second grade when I got stuck with that bitch."

"Yeah yeah," Jane replied, "just ignore her. She hates that. Listen, why don't you and Frost go to the DA's office and try to get more information on Emma Spencer? Tell me what you find. I gotta stay local in case there's another _Dr. Martin_ crisis."

"Ma said she looked just like Maura," Frankie said as he waited for Frost to gather his things.

"Spittin' image," Jane affirmed. She clapped his back as he left.

* * *

Frost and Frankie had found out from the ADA that Emma Spencer had an office in the courthouse basement, and when they looked at her email, they were able to trace the IP address to the office itself. Jane and Frost explored it, and found out exactly why Emma Spencer needed a fake ID: she was investigating a murder.

Specifically, she was investigating the murder of her childhood best friend, who had been found in someone's basement. The killer had never been located, and apparently, based on all the photographs and notes in Emma's workspace, she was working on doing just that. Jane had had the bright idea of getting Maura to look at the body of the best friend, Isabelle DuBois, and that's where she stood now, back in the morgue while Maura studied the mummified corpse.

"She was asphyxiated," said Maura as she examined the trachea, "and has quite a bit of adipocere tissue."

Jane gagged. "I hate soap mummies." She pulled out the report of Isabelle's first autopsy, ten years prior. "Ok, it says here that there's an abnormality to Isabelle's left cheekbone."

"It's an injury, not an abnormality," Maura corrected. She sighed heavily. "That's why Pike is still in Worcester."

Jane laughed. "Yeah I guess so."

"You see those tool marks on her zygomatic bone?"

"What, on her cheek?"

"Yeah. There's three round indentations with scalloped edges."

"What is that from?"

"It's a strange pattern. Isabelle was struck with something hard enough to break the skin and pierce the bone."

"Well, Korsak's looking at what's left of Isabelle's clothing from that night," said Jane. "The body was found in an old lady's basement."

"Did the old lady kill her?" Maura asked.

"It's doubtful," Jane shrugged.

"Doubtful? So she might have?"

"Nah," Jane gruffed.

"Then why did you say doubtful?" Maura was annoyed and unsure.

"I just wanted you to know what uncertainty felt like since you make me feel it so often," Jane smirked, attempting to lighten their mood. When Maura's bottom lip began to tremble and she started to cry, Jane hopped around the table with a now half empty box of tissue. "Oh my god, Maura, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Maura took one of the tissues and dabbed at her eyes. She snatched Jane close to her and squeezed her tight. "Everything makes me cry. Adipocere tissue never makes me cry."

"Makes _me_ cry sometimes," Jane joked, "because it's so gross." Maura pinched some of the skin over her shoulder blade. "Ouch, a'right. I'm sorry. I'm listenin'," her arms weren't around Maura, somehow she knew that Maura wouldn't want that. But, she rested her chin on the top of Maura's head to let her know she was there.

"My mother said it was better that I didn't live," Maura cried again.

"Ok, now you're being ridiculous," Jane said. "She did not say that. She said it was traumatic, right?" Maura nodded slowly and she continued. "That means it makes her sad and she doesn't wanna dwell on it."

"I just don't ever want her to know that I'm that evil child," Maura whispered into Jane's clavicle.

Jane grabbed another tissue and held it up to Maura's face. "Here. Blow." When she took it, she had the saddest look on her face that Jane had ever seen. Something had to be done. "Think a kiss might help?" Jane asked, looking around to make sure they were sufficiently alone.

"We're at work," Maura said without conviction.

"So? It'd help me. I been a ball of nerves all day," Jane said as she raised her eyebrows.

"All week," Maura revised for her. She leaned back enough to show Jane that she was ready, and then Jane leaned in to close the gap. It was soft and it was salty from the way Maura had wept, but it charged Jane up nonetheless. She deepened it, made herself vulnerable in the way she opened her mouth to take more of Maura in, because if somebody came into the room, there would be no denying what they were doing. Her hands slipped past Maura's white lab coat to her sides, thumbing and kneading soft skin under the scratch of designer clothes.

Maura whimpered, a hiccup escaping due to her recent tears, and she started to tug Jane towards her office. "We can be careful," she whispered desperately. "I know you can be careful."

Jane wanted to scream when she saw Hope walking through the crime lab, talking to one of the techs, presumably wanting to know where Maura would be. "We can't," she croaked. She cursed when they broke apart, but Maura was curious enough, deflated enough, to look for the cause of Jane's rejection. Jane just pointed to Hope as she entered the double doors of the morgue, and they separated.

"I was just picking up my residential parking permit upstairs," Hope said, "I hope it's ok."

Jane wanted to shake her. "Yes. Yes. It's fine, yeah. We were just breaking another case," she said, handing Maura the tissue box as pretense for their proximity.

"Terrific," Hope declared, seemingly none the wiser. "I stopped in because I… well I wanted to know if you were able to identify her."

"We were," said Maura.

"Soap mummy?" Hope asked, attention now on the body on the table, "looks to be about ten years old."

"Yes," Maura responded, "You're amazing."

Jane, even though she felt like she should probably just ask Sister Callahan how to become a nun at this point, was glad to see Maura get a second chance with Hope so soon. And, for Hope to seek her out instead of the other way around had to mean something. Maura struggled to see the irresistibility of her earnestness oftentimes, and though Jane tried to remind her, witnessing it firsthand from the person she most wanted to please in the world was miles better.

Frost, eyes drawn to Hope for the first time, looked at Jane in contrition before he spoke. He was out of breath from having run down the stairs to get there. "Got somethin' big, Jane. Emma was applying to be a nanny with a bougie company called No Cares Au Pair."

Jane was already walking toward him when she replied. "For what?"

"I don't know, but get this. It was for Tom MacGregor's Independent opponent."

"Shit," said Jane. She whipped around to Maura and Hope. "I'll call you later, a'right? I gotta see what I can squeeze out of these nannies."

Maura looked at her with gratitude and more than a passing instance of buried lust. Her eyes held promise.

* * *

Jane had just walked away from what seemed to be a very tense conversation with her former teacher when Maura surprised her, file folder first.

"So she likes Montepulciano, Lebanese zucchini, and science fiction," Maura said as she smiled brightly.

"She's a soap mummy," Jane teased to hide her confusion.

"No, Hope," Maura corrected, as if it were obvious, "My… my new friend."

"Well, that's wonderful, Maura," said Jane sincerely.

"And she said she'd call me when she's settled into her new home. I guess her move-in should be complete this afternoon," Maura elaborated. She watched Jane try so valiantly to keep her eyes locked on her own, but they travelled down, down, down, until they reached her chest. She held the folder up in front of her breasts to subtly bring Jane back to reality.

"Ooh. I was hoping those are the DNA results," Jane said, suddenly all bulldog again.

"Not yet. It's Isabelle's tox screen," said Maura. "There were traces of Rohypnol in her system."

"Roofies? Maybe Isabelle was raped and that's why she was murdered. I think you just got us what we need, Maura."

* * *

Jane weaved through Boston city streets at nearly eight pm. She hadn't brought out the bubble light yet, no, she had _some_ integrity, but she layed on the horn practically the whole drive from Downtown to Beacon Hill.

Emma Spencer had covered for Isabelle DuBois one night ten years ago - she had told their parents that Isabelle was sleeping over when really, she was going out to meet a boy. A boy named Jim Shannon, who would end up running for the same congressional seat as Tom MacGregor. It had taken hours of piecing together Emma's personal, sometimes coded, files in her office, and calling in her brother and former employer as witnesses in order to figure it out.

Maura had come up to the bullpen right at five o'clock, looked directly, only, at Jane, and said, "I have an appointment. See you at home?"

Jane had then spilled her afternoon coffee all over her notes when she remembered exactly what Maura's appointment was for. She had glanced at the clock and groaned, knowing there was no way they were even close to done. It took almost three more hours to bring the candidate in for an interview and then place him under arrest.

So, now anything on the road other than a green traffic signal irked her. She had called when they were finished to say that she was on the way, to ask how the removal of Maura's stitches had gone, because she knew as soon as she stepped foot in the house she'd find speaking difficult and she didn't want to be rude. She finally approached the brownstone as she thought of Maura's positive response, threw the car into park right on the street, and juggled her keyring until she found the one she needed.

Her hands shook as she unlocked the front door, and when she pushed it open, the smell of a cooking meal deflated her. "Hi," Maura said as she saw her enter, smile wide and loving. Whatever was cooking had just gone into the oven, because she was in the process of removing oven mitts when she greeted Jane.

"Uh uh," Jane said, shaking her head. "No. Turn that off."

Maura masked hurt with confusion. "Aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten since breakfast."

As soon as Jane slammed the drawer to the writing desk, now full of her gun and badge, however, Maura realized her mistake. "I'm three hours late and you want to make me even later with dinner? Nah. You and me have a date." Jane entered the kitchen with a predatory aura, using the entire front of her body to back Maura up into the wall. She kissed her with her hands still at her sides, let Maura do all the touching as they breathed heavily into one another.

"I thought that this could be part of the date. I'm trying to take care of you," Maura panted as she wound her fingers in Jane's hair. "Put your hands on me."

Jane did as she was told and untucked the black and pink blouse Maura had worn for the day. Her hands slid shamelessly up and down the silken skin of Maura's sides before she slipped her thumbs just under the waistline of Maura's slacks in the back. "Take care of me this way first," she whispered, eyes black now. "Turn dinner off and let's go upstairs."

Maura looked over to the oven and smirked in between kisses. "You're closer."

Jane broke their bond instantly, and Maura regretted her teasing, until she saw long fingers twist the oven dial off and point to the staircase. "Now, Maura," Jane commanded.

Maura complied with enthusiasm, practically jogging up the steps. Jane was stomping behind her, and somehow they made it to the bedroom door at the same time. Maura turned so her back was against it, and held the knob shut while she put her fingertips against Jane's lips. "Listen to me," she said quietly, waiting for Jane to really pay attention before she continued. "This is going to be different than it's been before."

"Yes, ma'am," said Jane, smiling.

Maura stifled a chuckle. "I want to do what you asked. I want to take care of you. First."

Jane nodded. "I don't have a problem with that."

"You deserve it," Maura said, moving her hands from Jane's shoulders to the tuck of her shirt.

"I'll take it," said Jane, in her typically self-deprecating way. She rested her forearms against the threshold and moaned when Maura slowly dragged her belt loose and stuck a hand down her pants. Fingers began to explore her, finding her already ready, and she bucked forward and thumped her head against the door when circles became more concentrated and consistent.

"But then I want you to take over," Maura told her through the fog of kisses on Jane's neck, under her jaw. "You are _so_ good at taking over. And I need you to be that for me after today."

"Don't make me come standin' up, please," Jane choked out, forehead still on the door, eyes still closed. "And I'll do whatever you want."

Maura extricated herself slowly. She fisted Jane's t-shirt and undershirt with her left hand, pulling it away from her abdomen, exposing it to the open air, and then she dragged her two glistening fingertips from just under Jane's beltline to her ribs. Jane hissed when Maura knelt down, using her tongue to lick away the moisture trail she had just left. She clenched her belly in desire and at the way the air felt cool on her skin.

"Open the door, Jane," Maura said, coming back up after several long, worshipful moments on her knees.

Jane dropped her left hand from the threshold and pawed the door open, hands even more unsteady than before. She stood in the doorway for long seconds, watching Maura walk in and methodically remove her jewelry, then her blouse, then her slacks. Maura stood there, in only her underwear, hoping to communicate wordlessly what she wanted Jane to do, where she wanted her to go, but Jane only walked over to her, kicked off her boots, and wrapped her arms around her.

She kissed her again, tongue bold in the way that it moved around Maura's mouth, seeking out something hotter and tighter that she knew she wouldn't find here, this way. But she needed to be patient. She had something coming to her first. "You uh… you look fucking good," she breathed out when they had parted, and Maura laughed.

"So do you," she replied.

"I'm fully dressed," Jane stated.

"And still, you look good. Remedy that for me, though?" Maura asked, her voice deep and wanting when she helped to pull Jane's shirt over her head. Next she worked on her slacks, loving the way they thudded to the floor with the weight of Jane's keys and wallet in them. Jane dealt with the rest, now completely naked, and the both of them looked down before their eyes and their lips met again.

This time they united hungrily, Jane pulled forward by Maura until they reached the bed. She climbed on top of Maura, nestled between her legs, whined in disappointment when she saw barely there fabric still covering where she wanted to see her most. _Patience,_ she said to herself again. She let herself be coaxed into lying on her back, watching Maura's spine curve like a serpent as she trailed hot little islands of moisture down her body. "Fuck," she said sharply when a tongue split her down the middle. It met her, wetness on wetness, broad and flat against _everything_ , and the sound of it as Maura increased speed set Jane on fire. Then with no warning it was inside of her, and Jane cried out, a sharp rise in pitch that crescendoed into silence, until she felt the distinct devastation of emptiness.

Maura was crawling back up again, until their eyes met, and Jane grabbed her by the bottom lip with her teeth. Maura went in for the kiss she thought that Jane was requesting, only to have Jane's tongue swipe over her lips, and then her chin to take herself in.

Then, satisfied that she had cleaned Maura up enough, Jane did kiss her, leaving what she had found back where she had found it. Maura moaned into it, and Jane swallowed that moan up. "You liked that, huh?" Maura nodded weakly. "Well, you said you wanted lessons, so let's get to learnin'," said Jane.

Maura put her hand between them, sliding inside of Jane, as much to ground herself as to give pleasure. They moved together, writhed together, for what felt like hours but passed in minutes. Jane's vocalizations were increasingly staccato, until Maura's arm began to burn. She shifted, and Jane released a breathless chuckle. "Not so easy is it?" she asked gamely, making Maura look at her while she clenched her teeth, so close to orgasm.

Maura used her other hand to cover Jane's smart mouth. "I told you I'd take care of you," she said, using her lower palm as leverage to send Jane reeling, "so let me do it."

Jane moaned against the closure of her fingers, louder and longer, until she was spent and boneless and sweating against Maura's priceless bedclothes. "Gimme a minute," she mumbled, swiping blindly at Maura, who had slid off and into the spot beside her.

"Take as long as you need. I know I can be quite a lot to recover from," Maura teased, but with more than a little confidence.

"I am gonna need you naked, though. For this next part."

Maura blushed furiously, hating and loving that the way Jane talked disoriented her so. She moved to undo the clasp of her bra when a strong hand shot out to stop her. "You said-"

"I got it," interrupted Jane. Maura bit her lower lip at how Jane hovered over her, eyes wide with intent, when just before she had been nearly lifeless on her back. She let Jane drop the bra to the floor next to her bed, let her drink in the sight of her breasts now exposed to the light before latching onto a nipple with her mouth.

It was the thought as much as the sensation that made her wet, and that, Maura recognized in the moment, was what made Jane so dastardly in bed. The forethought, the naughty intent of every touch seemed designed just for her. Lovers before Jane had used formulas, things that had worked for them in the past and worked pretty well on her, too. But Jane was building an in-depth, in _very_ deep, case study. Jane was a lover in the present tense, using her truly unique fluid intelligence to map out the effects of each kiss, each thrust, each word, and create a custom-built sexual euphoria for Maura every time. "You scare me," she whispered in between sighs, and she had meant it only as a thought, not as an utterance, when Jane looked back up at her.

"What?" Jane asked, unsure if she heard what she heard, lower lip still drooping against the swell of Maura's right breast.

"There are no secrets with you," Maura said, figuring the cat was out of the bag now. "You _see_ me. Here. When we're together."

Jane nodded in understanding. "I see you out there, too. Let it be a good thing. You don't ever have to tell me what to do."

"It's a good thing," Maura said, arching her back with the slide of Jane's palm on her stomach. She covered the scarred hand with her own, rubbing her thumb lovingly over the calloused surface. "Sorry I interrupted."

Jane chuckled and the hot air against Maura's nipple brought it to attention, made her shiver. "Make it up to me?"

"How?" Maura asked, desperate to give Jane whatever she wanted.

"Let me see it," Jane stopped smiling. She raised her left eyebrow and waited. Maura hurried out of her underwear and opened her legs wide, no patience for decorum or any more foreplay.

It was wet enough to glisten when it caught light, and Jane wasted no time. She kissed it, her first time tasting it, greeted it hello with a salacious combination of sucking lips and travelling tongue.

Maura returned Jane's "fuck," from before, one hand in her black hair and the other palm against her ear and thumb against her scalp. Soon, however, Jane was back, hips between Maura's bent legs, torso propped up by one arm while the other reached for the night stand on Maura's side of the bed. Maura would have been lying if she said she didn't want this, hadn't expected it. Oral sex was good, but she and Jane hadn't done _this_ since they were angry at each other enough to burn down every bridge between them. Maura yearned to know what it felt like when Jane didn't hate her, when she didn't despise Jane with every fiber of her being. What would it feel like to be this _close?_

For the first time, she helped Jane prepare, clasped the buckles of the leather at each hip, shifted to accommodate while Jane adjusted inside herself and then let the toy rest between them - a heavy prologue. The anticipation pricked at the back of Maura's eyelids and she rubbed the skin over Jane's cheekbones as she tried not to come undone.

Jane grinned wickedly.

"What are you going to teach me now?" Maura asked, voice hoarse and tremulous, knowing Jane meant to change the game somehow.

"How good it feels when you love me," Jane said simply, slipping in so effortlessly that Maura could only kiss her softly in response. The gentle drag in and out, the way each departure and subsequent reunion pushed Maura higher on the ascent, would have taken hours. And oh, what a way to pass the time - she was content to let Jane slow grind her into oblivion. But this, apparently, was not the plan. No. _Apparently_ , Jane knew things about anatomy, how to work it, how to please it. She reared back, her palms on the mattress again, knees bent for control, suddenly moving very quick and very shallow.

"C'mere," Maura grasped at Jane, near hysterics, when she felt it. When Jane fell forward, just a little deeper, but somehow still able to manage, Maura kissed her for some fortitude. "I-I'm gonna be loud, ok? I can already tell," she said, adopting some of Jane's lazy consonants and Bostonian elisions as her voice bounced with their movements. "I love you. I want you to stay here with me. _Jesus_ , Jane, I-" she sobbed the last part, unable to finish.

"Good," said Jane, peppering kisses across Maura's damp face. "Less talkin', more screamin'." She continued and Maura could only hope that her windows were soundproof enough to keep their love private as she took Jane's imperative to heart and let herself scream.

When she finished, and had recovered enough to open her eyes, Maura dared a glance at Jane: flat on her back, covered only marginally at the pelvis by a twisted sheet, belly growing and retracting in the search for much needed air. "What did I tell you?" Jane wheezed, half laughing and half groaning, with a tired smile.

"I don't remember," Maura replied honestly, taking her chance to lay in the crook of Jane's arm. She put her hand against Jane's ribcage and recited every expiratory muscle in her head as it rose and fell.

"Well, is it as good when you love me as it was when you hated me?" Jane reframed her question, arm too tired to wrap around Maura's waist, settling for bumping up against her.

Maura, never to be denied what she wanted, however, pulled Jane's hand up for her and laced their fingers together, draping her arm over her shoulders like a cloak. "I don't know," she teased, "the hate sex was quite nice."

Jane exhaled noisily. "Ha ha."

"Of course it was as good," Maura said. "Of course it was better. My feelings for you are… big and complicated, even when we're not falling into bed together. That makes for very messy, involved intercourse."

"You told me you loved me," Jane said into the crown of Maura's hair. "Although I don't know how much that counts if you say it while we're fucking." Maura bit her just above her right breast and she yelped. "Ow!"

"I've always loved you. You've been my best friend since we met," Maura made her profession sound like a chastisement.

"Even when I was tellin' you to buzz off in that line at the cafe, huh?" asked Jane.

"Even then. Remember when you came down to the morgue and apologized? You offered to buy me a beer to repay me. That's when I knew I loved you."

"If you knew you loved me, why'd you turn me down? I distinctly remember sharing that beer with my brother and _not_ you."

"Because I hated beer. But you looked so put out to be without my company. I had never seen that before. You were so disappointed that I didn't go."

"Well, at least you brought me coffee the next morning. Because a beer turned into ten that night."

Maura laughed. "You were so hungover."

"Yeah, so hungover that they wouldn't let me do buy busts that day. I was stuck with paperwork," Jane griped.

"You ended up coming to the morgue six times. The last time I told you to just bring your files downstairs and we could work together," Maura said, and Jane felt the smile against her chest.

"We haven't stopped since," said Jane. She waited a few seconds, waved her feet absentmindedly at the end of the bed to steady herself for what she was about to say. "You're _in_ love with me. You didn't mean you loved me as your friend, or that you loved me in some passionate, platonic way. I think you do those things too, but you meant that you're in love with me. I know how that sounds. And it sounds different. That sounded different."

Maura froze. Their relationship was all of a week old. She wanted to take it slow, but she also was the one who had let it slip. "I'm so in love with you," she whispered, afraid but grateful to be given the grace to say it out loud. "I'm in love with everything about you. Today, I couldn't help thinking that out of all the people I've been with, I was so proud that Hope, my mother, was meeting you."

Jane smiled, closed mouth and eyes screwed shut, as she squeezed Maura tight. "That's good. By the way, I love you, too. I think she could tell."

Maura's heart ballooned. This was _bad_. Well, it was good, but it was fast. "I couldn't have gotten through today without you," she said. What she had meant to say was _We should really slow down_ , but more vulnerability poured out instead.

"In all fairness, I'm the reason today even happened the way it did, so it was the least I could do to be there for ya."

"Even so. I don't think I would have survived if you weren't there to pick me up. It ended well, but it was all so fraught."

"You know… you gotta tell her sooner or later, Maura. Especially if you plan on bein' friends. Keepin' a secret that big is gonna eat you up inside," Jane said hesitantly, not wanting to burst the bubble, but needing to level with Maura.

Maura stiffened, but Jane shifted to her side and shuffled downwards so that they could be face to face. "It would devastate her, Jane. It would ruin her life," Maura said.

"No. That's not true. Didn't you see her today? Around you? She's a little bit in love with you, too. She _likes_ you. Now imagine how she's gonna feel when she finds out that this amazing, smart person is actually her kid," Jane reasoned.

Maura admitted to herself that it sounded good, especially coming out of Jane's tired, New England mouth, combined with the visual of Jane's mussed, sexy hair against her own fancy white pillows. "You flatter me. Specifically to get in my pants."

"I'm already there," Jane quipped. "Plus, it's all the truth. You gotta tell her, babe. You know you can't just keep it from her. Because if she finds out that you have, it's gonna be ten times worse than if you just got it over with now."

Maura weighed the logic, eventually yielding to it. "I will. You're right. I have to. Just let me figure out how."

"Ok," Jane sighed into a contented hum. "It's sleepy time anyway." She reached back and turned off the lamp on her nightstand.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, I think we are about halfway done!

In the early hours of the morning, there was an insistent, wet press between Jane's shoulder blades: four, five, six times, and it woke her up. As soon as she opened her eyes and saw total darkness, she knew it had to be a mistake. But no, it continued until she groaned in disapproval. Then a cascade of words (what even _was_ language at this hour?) tickled her back.

"Come do yoga with me," it said, and Jane wondered if she had lost her mind.

"No," she replied simply, firmly. Groggily.

"Please? I need exercise," the voice she now recognized as Maura's beckoned. Maura's hand splayed itself against her belly and it felt too good to get up.

"Hell no," said Jane, in case the first time wasn't clear enough. "Didn't we exercise enough last night? You go hang out in the yoga room and I can sleep til it's light outside."

"If we hurry, we can make the early class at Radiant," Maura whispered, ignoring the sass and asserting her desires.

Jane craned her neck to look behind her at that. "You actually wanna leave the house? How is a place called Radiant even open before the sun comes out?"

"Jane," Maura pleaded.

"Maura, no," Jane groaned.

"What happened to ' _anything_ '?" Maura asked pointedly.

Jane sighed. She knew Maura had her then, bringing up her promises and knowing that Jane loved to keep her word when it came to her best friend. She was for sure toast when Maura climbed on top of her under the burrow of covers she had made and warmed her with her body instead.

* * *

"I just want it on the record that making me wake up before dawn, to go to yoga _outside_ the house, and then make me walk there, is cruel and unusual," Jane shoved her hands into her hoodie pocket, hiding her cold lips and nose behind its funnel neck. "And to add no coffee on top of that…"

Maura laughed, her skin still flushed from exertion. She carried both her own yoga mat and the one Jane had borrowed from her on her back. "Oh please. It's five blocks. And we have espresso at home. Trust me - it's going to taste better than most of the coffee you'd find in a shop."

"The best tasting coffee is the one you don't have to make yourself," Jane mumbled, the sweat trapped in her compression leggings now uncomfortably cool against her skin. Beacon Hill had started to wake, with people pushing past them distracted by cell phone conversations, filing into all the coffee spots that Jane longed to patronize.

"Actually-"

"No, don't finish that!" Jane interrupted, "just let me be grumpy about having to wait for coffee. Let me have this one thing."

Maura scoffed. "If that's what you want. Have you noticed that your mother has been coming home awfully late lately?"

"Talk to me about anything but homemade coffee _and_ my mother's… nighttime routines," Jane amended, "talk to me about Hope."

Maura twitched her nose. "And to think we were having such a lovely morning."

"Were we?" Jane snarked, and Maura smacked her arm. "We were, we were. That can be your off-limits topic if you want. Since I have two."

"No," Maura conceded, stuffing her hand into Jane's hoodie pocket to steal some of her warmth. She smiled when fingers wove around her own. "I think what you said last night is right. I can't not tell her, especially if I want an honest relationship with her. I just don't even know how to begin that conversation."

When they rounded the corner onto Maura's street. Jane spoke. "You just gotta go with honesty. Rip the Band-Aid off. Tell her you're her kid. But, you know, also tell her that you have a mom; you're not lookin' for one. Christ, you basically got _two_ moms," she said as they approached home, nodding in the guesthouse's direction. "Three would definitely be too many."

Maura unlocked the door, letting go of Jane to do so. "You need to stop giving your mother so much grief."

They walked into the artificial heat of the house, and Jane immediately peeled off her sweatshirt. "Nonsense. That's what kids are for. To give parents grief."

"Well, I just don't want to give Hope _actual_ grief. I'm sure she has a lot of it surrounding my birth already," Maura said. Jane acknowledged her with a straight-lipped frown, leaning on the counter while Maura took out the espresso machine and its various add-ons.

"So how long is this gonna take? I gotta be in the shower in like thirty-minutes."

"Don't be ridiculous. It will not take me thirty minutes to put a cup of coffee in your hands. Have some patience," Maura said, not looking behind her as she talked, but rather ahead, at the coffee-maker.

"You met me before?" was all Jane said when Maura scooped ground coffee into the portafilter and packed it in.

"I know it's a lot to ask," said Maura, chuckling. "But you've done harder things for me."

From that point, Jane tried her best to attend to Maura's work. Making an Italian cup of coffee required skill and method, things that Maura had in spades. She measured carefully and pressed deliberately. All of these things ran contrary to what it took to make an Italian a cup of coffee, however. They were impatient and unbridled and rude. And, they tended to consume near-lethal amounts of caffeine. Maura paid all of that no mind as Jane looked on.

"Ah, the joy of controlling how the hot water rises before a torrent of pressure penetrates the tamped beans," she smiled with pleasure at the view of the group head steaming their first cup as she maneuvered the lever. She stood at the kitchen island in yoga pants, a stretchy lavender tank, and a black windbreaker, all juxtaposing the thousand-dollar contraption in front of her.

Jane shook her head, fresh out of patience. "Ok, I'm done watchin' coffee porn," she said, reaching into the cupboard on the top shelf where she knew Maura couldn't, pulling down a jar of Folger's instant.

Maura noticed everything eventually, however, and as soon as the glass hit the granite, she gasped. "How did instant get in my cupboard? You are so impatient!"

"Maura," Jane griped, "I just want a cup of coffee, not a roman orgy."

"You could just wait five minutes and get a far superior product. And while I am always trying to get you to expand your sexual palate, it better never include _that,_ " Maura warned with a good-natured grin. She walked over to Jane and pinched her jaw between forefinger and thumb, wagging her face. "Don't give my love away," she echoed Jane as she inhaled the sweat from her Boston PD workout shirt.

"Never ever," Jane replied through a smashed face, running her thumb under the side waistband of her own shorts to release some fidgety energy. To Maura's horror, when she was released, she filled her mug with tap water and spooned some coffee inside.

But before Maura could protest, Angela Rizzoli, as she often did, interrupted their banter by walking through the back door. She wore a form-accentuating bright blue dress and black heels, a black cardigan topping it all off. All to say, she was dressed much fancier than usual. "Morning," she said to Jane and Maura.

"Morning-" Jane stopped herself with a dropped jaw.

"Oh!" Maura said, smiling brightly at Angela's fashion choices.

"Where are you goin'? A garden party?" Jane inquired, suspicious already.

"Going to work," Angela shrugged, as if all were normal.

"Like that?" Jane asked.

"I am the mother and you are the daughter in this scenario, Jane," Angela threatened.

"I think she looks beautiful," Maura interjected, "and I love your shoes."

"I haven't worn high heels in a while," confessed Angela.

"Thirty years is more than a while," Jane snarked, pulling her mug out of the microwave and blowing on it to cool it down.

"Yeah yeah," Angela rolled her eyes, and grabbed a banana from the counter on her way out of the house. "Bye."

"Bye Ma," Jane waved. Then she said to Maura, "I think my mom has a gentleman caller."

"I told you she's been coming home late. But would that be so bad?" Maura watched after Angela had left, still in admiration.

"It would be so bad. Because then I have to put a BOLO out on every eligible bachelor over 50 in the city. Who has time for that?"

Maura laughed freely. "For as disinterested as you try to seem, you are both so nosey when it comes to each other's love lives."

Jane gasped. "I am _not_."

"Are so," countered Maura in a sing-song voice, "any ideas on who it is?"

Jane's mood turned conspiratorial when their eyes met. "My money's on this guy from the neighborhood, Mr. Zanotti. She's had a crush on him for years and he just got divorced. Works a block from the station, too."

"Really?" Maura asked, "I think it's Lieutenant Cavanaugh."

"What?!" Jane yelled.

"Mmhmm. I don't think anything has happened between them, but I see him at the cafe counter an awful lot. Always chatting with Angela," said Maura, proud of her deduction skills.

"God," Jane was in shock.

"She also told me all about his political leanings yesterday. I thought it was strange at the time, but if they are dating, or starting to date, it makes more sense."

"Why on Earth were you and Ma talking about Cavanaugh's 'political leanings'?"

"I think your Mother was trying to make sure I wasn't a closet Republican."

Jane guffawed at the thought of Maura, who rode on a horse naked in college to support women's rights, as a Republican. Then she considered the reasons that would come up in the first place. "Wait. Why would Ma care whether or not you're a Republican?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because you're both very nosey about each other's love lives, as I said," Maura replied. "I think she wanted to see if she should counsel you to break up with me. She started the conversation by very bluntly telling me that you're a Democrat. Which I knew. Because of course I knew. That's when the comparison between you and Cavanaugh was made."

"I don't even want to know why my mother was comparing me to the man she may or may not be sleeping with," Jane cringed. "And now I'm trying to avoid thinking about them sleeping together."

"I think she just meant that you are both very moderate, blue collar Boston Democrats who don't get treated very well at work because of it," Maura qualified, "and your mother is a beautiful woman who deserves to have fun."

"My mother flosses in bed," Jane countered.

"And you fall asleep in your clothes. We can't all be perfect," Maura shimmied.

"Not like you?"

"Correct," said Maura, swirling the espresso cup under her nose as it settled. Her phone rang, and she picked it up off the counter. "Oh, it's Hope."

"Answer it!" Jane encouraged her.

"What do I say?"

"Hello, biological Mom Hope. My name is Maura. I didn't die at birth."

"Shut up."

"No, you shouldn't say shut up," Jane teased.

"Dr. Isles," Maura answered. "Oh hello, Dr. Martin! What a surprise." Jane nearly spit out some of her beverage from laughing at the faux enthusiasm. Maura just glared.

" _I've just gotten the last box of ours unpacked this morning, Maura, and I was wondering if we could make our lunch a dinner,"_ said the smooth voice on the other end of the phone.

"Um… oh. Oh, yes, I-I would love to have dinner with you," Maura agreed, powerless to say no when their interactions were still so fresh and intoxicating.

" _How about tonight? I would love to hear all about how your case is going with that poor girl and the soap mummy."_

"Tonight would be great. Uh, would you like to come over to my house? It would remedy having to pick a restaurant in a city you're still, um, getting to know." All of Maura's uncharacteristic 'ums' and 'uhs' made Jane want to pick her up and kiss her.

" _That sounds wonderful. Should we say around seven? If it's alright with you, I'd like to bring Cailin, too. She hasn't gotten out much since we got here, and I want her to socialize a bit."_

"Sure, you can bring Cailin. Ok, I will text you my address. I-I look forward to it."

" _So do I. Bye, Maura."_

"Bye," Maura said cordially.

"Wow. Dinner here, huh?" Jane said into her mug, her grin barely contained.

"Oh my god," Maura huffed as soon as she hung up. "Why did I invite them here? The place is a wreck!" She gestured to the immaculate house.

"Oh, I'd be so embarrassed to invite anyone but me here," complained Jane sarcastically.

"And what will I serve? I mean, she probably has a more refined palate than me, with all her international travel." Maura began to move about the kitchen, tidying as she went, Folger's jar in hand as she wiped counters and ran the garbage disposal.

"You kiddin' me? You were in MSF. You went to boarding school in France. She should be nervous about impressin' _you_." Jane assured her, but with a twitch of annoyance in her voice. Of course Maura was the more cultured of the two. Who could compete with her? Before Maura could reply, both of their phones went off. "Rizzoli," Jane answered. "Ok, got it." she hung up. "See that? Saved by murder. C'mon."

Maura recoiled from Jane's hand on her elbow and pulled open the dishwasher. "No, no. I can't go. I have way too much to do. Not to mention I have to cook an entire three course meal! I can't pull everything together in… 10 hours," she said as she looked at her watch.

Jane chuckled. "Yeah, considering it takes you four hours to make a cup of coffee." the punchline didn't land when Maura started to hyperventilate. "Oh hell. Not with the heavy breathing, babe. Stop and I'll help you."

"I'm trying," Maura dragged air into her lungs through her nostrils.

"That's all I'm askin'. So, here's what you do. You call my mother, a'right? You flatter her, you tell her what a great cook she is, what a good mother she's been to all her kids. She eats that up. She'll cook for you," explained Jane, gulping down the last few sips of coffee in her mug before putting it in the sink.

"Oh, that's such an imposition," Maura whined, guilt overtaking her stress.

Jane shrugged. "Not if you invite her to dinner. The only thing she likes more than cooking is gossip. How juicy to be at your first meal with your biological mother who doesn't know she's your biological mother yet."

Maura narrowed her eyes and smirked at Jane. "You have a… first class mind. It's quite impressive."

"Yeah yeah. I'm brilliant. Now can we get ready for work?"

"Oh no. I'm still not going. Your mother providing the food doesn't solve the problem of the cleaning."

Jane frowned. "Ok. I think I can do an autopsy by now. I've spent enough hours in the morgue."

Maura hedged when Jane said this. "Well, I have to take a shower."

"Maura," Jane said firmly, "we only got time to shower together. Hot water gets shut off in three minutes if you don't hurry it up. Bathroom's that way," she pointed up the stairs when Maura stood in place, "move it."

* * *

Jane stood in the entrance of Maura's bedroom after the workday, watching Maura straighten herself up in the mirror and put a few finishing touch-ups on her lip gloss. "You look great," she said, walking further into the room and stopping a few feet short of the full length mirror. "I still look presentable?" She hadn't had time to go home and change, but counted it as a minor miracle that there were no stains or wrinkles on the front of her white-blue button up and gray slacks. Those even still looked _mostly_ ironed.

Maura turned around to survey Jane at her request. "I am most attracted to you when you look like this," she said, maybe not the answer that Jane was expecting.

Jane glanced down at herself. "In corporate chic?" she scoffed, but Maura reached out to put fingertips on the exposed skin of her chest. Her top three buttons were undone, revealing just the dip of her undershirt and the tan over her collarbone.

"In clothes that complement me," Maura answered. She squeezed her hands all the way down Jane's arms until she reached just above her wrists. "Clean cut, crisp, authoritative. You look like I should take you seriously. We look like we match."

"We could not look more different, remember?" Jane observed, not disagreeing, but needing clarification.

"Exactly. It's the reason people like to watch us walk into a room. Have you ever noticed that?" Maura asked. She shivered when she saw Jane's gun and badge still at her hips.

"Hard not to," Jane replied.

"It's because we're so opposite. And opposites look striking. I think people imagine what we would look like in bed together."

Jane choked. "I don't know about that."

Maura smiled and she was nervous. "They at least like to think about how nice you look next to me. I'm going to be thinking about that too, all through this dinner, to ground myself. So I suppose the short answer is yes, you still look presentable," she said, smoothing a line on her skirt. When Jane reached up to put a hand on her cheek, Maura admired the neat roll of her button-up sleeve, how the basilic vein, fat and lively, pumped blood back to Jane's good heart, how the line of it against her skin made her look so potent.

"Well let's get down there, then," said Jane sweetly, "whatever Ma is making smells good."

Maura nodded, and then got scared when Jane opened the door and air from the rest of the house hit her. She grabbed Jane's hand, fingers intertwined, and then they walked down the stairs together. When she saw Angela, still in her dress and heels and finishing up a gourmet meal, she wondered if she needed all this business with Hope after all. She wondered if Hope was worth the trouble. "That looks… incredible. Gnocchi?"

Angela smiled warmly at her, a smile that communicated love, warmth, and worry all at once. "Yeah," she replied, "and I'm tryin' out this new wild boar ragout I saw in a magazine the other day. Tastes pretty darn good if I do say so myself."

"There's even vegetables," Jane pointed to a pot on the stove. "Can I do anything to help?"

"Cut the bread," said Angela with authority and Jane did, with the dexterity of a person who had been asked to do so countless times.

Maura walked over to the front hall, where there were three bouquets of fresh cut flowers, delivered early that afternoon and already in vases. She carried them, one by one, to the dining table, each to be set equidistant from one another and accentuated by large, fall-scented white candles.

In short, the ambience was set and the room was perfect. By any standards, there was nothing to worry about. Maura, however, made worrying into an art. "Take the gnocchi out of the hot water or it'll get sticky," she said towards the direction of the kitchen, too busy with rearranging all the centerpieces and silverware on the table to stop and make eye contact with just one person.

Angela was already on it, straining the pasta. "Jane, stir the ragout," she ordered.

"Jane, can you open the Montepulciano?" Maura asked her almost simultaneously.

Jane, to her credit, took it in stride. "Stirring boar, opening _muntipulcianu,_ " she said, stirring with vigor. When she screwed the bottle opener into the top of the bottle, the doorbell rang, and she froze, looking at Maura for any sign of hysterics.

They appeared. "Oh my god. They're a minute early!" Maura whisper-shouted at Jane. Then she noticed the drawing of Hope that Paddy had made, now back on her wall since Angela had returned. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed again, "what if she saw this?"

Jane popped the cork and wiped her hands on a dish towel over her shoulder. She waited, let Maura approach her. The doorbell rang again.

"Just a minute!" Maura called out. She hustled the frame over to Jane. "Hide it in the bathroom," she said, eyes wide and glossy.

"Ok, ok, ok," Jane held her hands out in front of her to calm Maura, "I got it. Let me take care of it." She grabbed it and made her way into the guest bathroom while Maura went to the door. "Maura!" she called out from behind the door, and when Maura turned, she modeled a deep breath in and a smile.

Maura imitated her, even if just to trick her brain into believing she was calm, and opened the door. "Hi," she said, upon seeing Hope and the young brunette woman next to her in a hand-knitted cardigan and jeans, iPad in hand and headphones in ear. "Come in, please."

"Dr. Isles," Hope, stunning in lavender and cream, greeted her. "This is my daughter, Cailin."

"Hi, Cailin," Maura waved.

"Hey," Cailin said disinterestedly, blue eyes refusing to meet Maura's own green.

"Please sit. You're right on time; dinner just finished cooking." Maura led them to the table, where place settings were laid out for five people. Jane had made it out of the bathroom to stand next to her mother in the kitchen, not sure where to go. Maura walked up to her, pulled the towel from her shoulder, and then patted it. "You too," she said quietly.

Jane did as told, reaching her hand out to Cailin over the table. "Hi. Jane," she said simply and with her handsome, crooked half-smile.

Cailin lit up with something small and undefinable, and she half-smiled, too. "Maura's girlfriend?"

Jane sputtered, but kept the handshake strong. "Uh, yeah."

"Mom said you work together," Cailin said. Her flat tone masked whatever spark of emotion had bubbled up in her just before. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and fired off a few quick text messages.

"Yeah, we do. Sort of. I'm a homicide detective; Maura's the Medical Examiner. She helps us solve murders," said Jane. She draped her napkin over her lap while Angela put a plate in front of her.

Maura placed helpings in front of her biological mother and sister. "That's not entirely true. I provide you with evidence. It's up to you to do all the solving."

"Thank you," both Hope and Cailin said to her as she served them. She and Angela sat at the table last, Maura at the head, Angela on the far right side across from Jane.

Maura wondered if having so many guests was a good idea after all. Jane's presence comforted her, but Angela, so bubbly and happy, next to dour Cailin, made the ambience stilted and awkward. "So, how was the move?" Maura asked her guests, hoping that a little small talk would loosen them up - she'd always been told that it worked for people, even though she never really felt less uncomfortable for it. "I hope everything went well."

Hope smiled brightly at the welcome distraction. "Oh it was fine, thank you. We managed to get all of our things here without a scratch. But let me tell you, it costs a pretty penny to ship your entire life to another continent."

"I can imagine," Angela piped up, fork in hand. "I had to downsize from my home of thirty years to a one bedroom apartment after my divorce and it cost a small fortune. And I didn't even hire movers."

"Yeah she hired me and my two brothers," Jane faux-griped with a smirk on her face, "and we got paid in sub sandwiches and hugs. I carried so many boxes I couldn't feel my legs for the next week."

"I offered to pay for movers," Maura butted in, glaring playfully at the both of them, "but you both flat-out refused."

Angela just blushed, but Jane scoffed. "Why spend money on movers when you have three able-bodied adult children? We got it done."

"Yes," Maura said, "but you are not able-bodied. No one with lumbar spine disease should be lifting that much at a time."

"Oh, ouch," Hope chimed in, "bulging disks are no fun. Were you an athlete?"

"For a long time," Jane nodded.

"You know, Cailin is premed, and she was very interested in sports medicine during high school. She partnered with a research group at university to study the long term effects of sport of all different types on the lumbar spine," Hope said, looking to her daughter for any kind of engagement. Cailin only looked up and smiled with a closed mouth.

"Fascinating," Maura said earnestly, "I've often wondered how frequency and duration of such intense physical activity accelerates spinal degeneration over the life span. What did you find?"

"Well, I had to leave before they finished the study, obviously, so…" Cailin trailed off, as though that were something Maura should have gathered.

Maura only smiled politely and turned to Jane, not sure what else to do.

Jane, mouth full of pasta, chewed vigorously until she swallowed the lump of it. "I'm glad everything went well. I'm sure it's been a little bit of a culture shock."

"Well, I grew up in Boston, went to college here. But yes, after being abroad for so long, it takes a while to adjust to the… pace of life here. It's almost like having to relearn everything that used to be natural to me. But, I think that we really are settling into a… a new city. Right Cailin?" said Hope.

"Yeah, we are," nodded Cailin distractedly, looking at her screen.

"How do you like Boston?" Jane asked.

It was Jane's voice asking the question that made Cailin look up, a practiced nonchalance to her smile. "I… I miss London," she replied. Even when Jane infused the question with longing, the way she inquired after Cailin's opinion of Boston as if any answer except _I love everything about it_ would break her heart, Cailin still answered with sarcastic politeness. Then she went back to her phone.

Jane just pulled her lips back and nodded once, taking the hint. Not a win, but not a total loss, either. At least she'd gotten her to talk.

Hope, however, was not as forgiving. "Honey, would you stop texting?" she requested in a syrupy tone too nice to be anything but a warning.

"Sorry," Cailin snapped, locking eyes with her mother, "I'm just saying goodbye."

They all heard it, and Maura glanced over at Jane for confirmation. Jane's wide eyes and bit lower lip confirmed that yes, Cailin had just sassed her mom in front of all of them.

Jane's ass smarted from the whooping that Angela _would've_ given her if she were in the same place. "You, uh, you in school?" she asked, catching the fear on Maura's face and willing to do anything to squash it.

"I _was_ ," Cailin said.

"Cailin was at Oxford," Hope elaborated.

Angela looked confused at that. "And you're not anymore?"

"Well…" Hope started, but she was cut off by her daughter.

"We had to move here," Cailin finished icily.

"She needs to take a semester off," said Hope. She stared at Cailin as if to plead for a ceasefire.

Cailin gave it to her, sort of. "Excuse me," she said, turning to Maura, "may I use your bathroom?"

"Of course," Maura nodded. She patted her lips with her napkin and pointed toward the front hall. "It's right over there." Cailin got up and only when Maura was sure she heard the door click shut did she turn to Hope and say, "it's a complicated relationship, mothers and daughters."

"Oh, yes it is," Hope agreed emphatically, releasing a breathy sort of laugh.

"It's a phase," Angela assured her. She pointed to Jane and rolled her eyes.

"I hope so," said Hope.

"I _can_ see you," Jane said to her mother.

"Cailin just misses her friends," Hope continued, "She doesn't know anyone here in Boston."

"Well there's plenty of people to get to know, you just gotta give her time. I mean, look, you just got here and you already have Maura. I'd say you hit the friend jackpot." Jane winked at Maura when she spoke, even though the consolation she offered was to Hope.

"I would say so, too," Hope smiled demurely at Maura. "This meal was spectacular. Tell me, did your mother teach you how to cook?"

Maura reddened at the question and all she could think was _you_ are _my mother_. Eventually she settled for, "Actually, Angela made dinner."

"Well, it's delicious," Hope said to Angela, who waved her off and mouthed _thank you_ in humble return.

"My mother, uh… she didn't spend much time in the kitchen," Maura supplied, suddenly wanting Hope's eyes on her again.

Jane watched at attention, back straight against her chair. "Maura's mother is an artist and an art-history professor, so she traveled a lot," she said for Maura, who smiled warmly at the gesture. For Jane to know about her, to know the contours of her life, and to be able to share them with her biological mother - that was the most intimacy that had ever been afforded to her in a relationship. It made her feel like she was worth knowing.

"I traveled a lot when Cailin was young, too," explained Hope, "her father's my ex-husband. He… he had financial issues, so I always had to work."

"That's hard," Angela sympathized, thinking of all the hardships that Frank had put her through.

At that moment, Cailin came back from the bathroom and sat on one of the arm chairs in Maura's living area. Maura watched her from the corner of her eye, careful not to betray her secret study of her half-sister, and Jane watched her watching.

"I think I'll use your ladies' room, too," Hope said as she got up.

"Ah, good idea." Angela got up, and headed toward the guesthouse for the comfort of her own bathroom.

Jane stood when Maura did, not sure what to do or say, except be close when Maura, her own plate in hand, slid up next to her so that she could whisper. "Cailin hates me," she said seriously.

Jane rolled her eyes. "She's 18. She hates everybody over 18," she snarked, "and under 18."

"But she's my sister, Jane," Maura countered.

"But she doesn't know that. And even when they know they're related to you, families are still complicated."

Maura tilted her head as if to say she wasn't so sure about that, and then rubbed Jane's arm with an open palm before taking dishes to the kitchen.

Jane stood there for a few more seconds, letting the lingering input from Maura's touch diffuse into her sleeve and over her skin like a balm. She grabbed a plate with a slice of chocolate torte on it and exhaled through her nostrils, making up her mind. She walked it over to Cailin, stood over her to offer her the dessert. "Hey. This is pretty good," she said.

Cailin took out her earbuds and looked up at Jane, starting from the buckle of her belt all the way to her hairline. "Oh, no, thank you."

Jane frowned. "Really? Not even one bite?" She sat on the couch, plate still out between them. Cailin smirked, took the plate, and scooped up one tiny bite with her fork. Jane smiled in her genuine way, the way that disarmed most people, but Cailin only shrugged as she chewed. Jane nodded in defeat when one earbud went back in, but she still took the plate from Cailin and placed it gently on the coffee table in front of them. "What're you listenin' to?" she said in her own voice, done with pretense and propriety.

Cailin remained unfazed, clearly having decided to be closed off for the remainder of the evening. "Oh, music."

Jane didn't acknowledge the sarcasm. "What kinda stuff do you like? I like pretty much anything - Ambrosia, Led Zeppelin, Jodeci… newer stuff, too."

Cailin sighed, almost like she was battling herself. "It was nice of you to bring the cake over. But it's ok. You don't have to try to engage with me, or bond with me."

Jane's furrow lines appeared as she surveyed Cailin. "Are we really that awful?"

"Will you tell my mom that I decided to walk home?" Cailin asked, gathering her things and standing.

"Wait, what? C'mon," Jane stood, too, put her body in Cailin's space, let her proximity do its work.

To her credit, Cailin faltered, but she didn't give in. "It's not personal. I just would like to be alone," she whispered as she stormed off to the front door, slamming it behind her.

Of course Hope was exiting the restroom at the precise moment that Maura's door thudded back into the threshold. "Was that Cailin?" she asked Jane, jaw dropped.

Jane opened her arms in defeat. "She said she wanted to be alone, I…"

Maura, sensing distress, walked over to them from where she had been washing dishes. "Did Cailin leave?" she asked Jane. "Are you leaving?" When she saw Hope throwing her jacket on her arm and shouldering her purse, her gut roiled in disappointment.

"She's very fragile right now," said Hope, already on her way out as well. "Thank you for dinner. I'm so sorry."

Jane put her hand on her heart before she used it to touch Maura's forearm. "What the hell just happened?"

"What did you say to her?" Maura asked, not angry, but curious.

"Uh…" Jane thought back to their brief exchange, "I offered her dessert. Then I asked her what she was listenin' to and she didn't wanna answer that. I asked if we were really all that bad and she told me I didn't have to try so hard to get to know her."

Maura shrugged, unable to guess why Cailin or Hope did anything, really. "She hates us."

Jane chuckled. "I guess so. How could someone hate _us,_ though? We're great."

"I actually think she likes you the most," Maura smiled, "I do, too." Jane dipped her head in humility and Maura pulled it to hers so that their foreheads touched. "But maybe there's more going on with her than we've been made privy to."

"Usually there is," said Jane, giving herself over to the affection in Maura's fingertips scratching against her scalp and drumming at her clavicle over her shirt. "You need help cleaning up?"

"Not tonight. Cleaning helps me destress. The more of it I can do by myself, the more well-adjusted I'll feel before bed."

"Ok, I better take off, then," Jane heaved out the sentence on a bellow of nasal breath, as though the thought itself disgusted her.

"You don't want to stay?" Maura asked, and the question wasn't suggestive or desparate. Just surprised.

"I do," said Jane, "but I don't have clothes for tomorrow. And I don't want to wake up early to drive across town and get some."

"Ok," Maura relented. She placed both hands on Jane's shoulders and squeezed.

"Ok?" asked Jane, unsure. When Maura nodded, she kissed her, short and loud. "Ok. See you in the morning." She picked up her keys from the bowl in the front hall, unhooked her blazer from the coat rack, and smiled at Maura from where she stood. "I'm sorry today ended so shitty, babe."

"It's not your fault. And Jane?" Maura leaned against the counter.

"Yeah?" asked Jane, hand on the doorknob.

"Next time you come over, bring some spare clothes."

"Will do." Jane blushed as she opened the door and trotted into the biting nighttime air.


	17. Chapter 17

The BPD cafe thrummed with life at 7:30 in the morning, with beat cops shuffling in and out with cups full of steaming coffee, detectives putting their orders in for breakfast, members of the brass schmoozing with others and _each_ other, hoping for some gossip to serve as the latest rung on their ladder up the chain of command.

Jane sat at a table for two close to the vending machines, alone, appraising the interactions around her with silence and ambivalence. She then considered her hefty breakfast: eggs, bacon, and toast, made just the way she liked it by her mother, exactly what she needed to face the day.

"I don't think Cailin should have been forced to have dinner with us." Speaking of her mother, a woman who looked, sounded, and walked just like her had approached the table with a to-go cup of brew that Jane ordered, but she could hardly believe the words were coming out of Angela.

"Why weren't you this evolved when I was 18? I distinctly remember at least thirty-five events that I did not want to go to and your response was only ever 'suck it up buttercup,'" Jane complained in disbelief.

Angela rolled her eyes. "You weren't all alone with your mother in a brand new big city, Jane. All your friends, your family, everything was here. There's a difference between a bad attitude and sadness."

Jane acquiesced. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still don't know if you would've had that opinion when I was 18, though."

"Maybe not," said Angela. "Here's your coffee. We ran out of the creamer you like so I left it black."

"Even better. Thanks." Jane reached for the cup greedily, taking a couple of hearty sips, just as pleased with black coffee, which got caffeine into her system the same way creamed coffee did. She set it down, another big bite of eggs shoveled with her fork, when Maura approached them.

The large lunch cooler on her arm looked out of place as Jane perused the lines of her black skirt. It didn't detract from her overall beauty, however, or the way her blue blouse billowed at her front, the way her perfectly styled blonde-brown hair framed her face. Jane felt familiar jolts of desire down each side of her spine. "I'm so sorry about last night," Maura said to the both of them, and it brought Jane back to reality. Maura in the morning, dressed professionally, fashionably, for work, looked just as good as Maura wearing nothing when the sun went down and they… did what they do.

"Why?" Angela asked, "it wasn't your fault."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, suddenly remembering a conversation was being had, "you don't exactly have to do much to put a teenager in a bad mood, Maura."

Maura didn't reply. She busied herself with pulling a towel out of her cooler and holding it up to Angela.

"What is that?" Angela pulled it to her nose and groaned in pleasure at the smell. Jane watched in horror.

"A chilled lavender towel. Put it on your neck," explained Maura. Angela did so, delighted at the sensation, and then walked off to finish her duties behind the counter. Maura held out another one to Jane. "On your neck," she repeated.

"No," Jane said a little too enthusiastically, around a big bite of eggs.

"It's very soothing. It's used for treating amenorrhea, athlete's foot, vaginitis-"

"I'm _eating_ ," Jane interrupted. "I don't need to be soothed. Sit down, will ya? It's been too many hours since I got to look at you. Properly."

Maura's skin flushed pink and she pulled the chair out across from Jane, who already opened the strawberry jam packet next to her toast, ready to spread it. Jane hated fruit preserves of most kinds, especially on toast. But Maura quite enjoyed them - guiltily of course, and not very often. But if someone as nice-looking as Jane, with as long and deft fingers as her, wanted to make her jelly toast, far be it from her to refuse. She took the white bread offered to her without complaint and gave Jane a grateful smile. She put the toast on a napkin in front of her as she adjusted the towel on her neck. When Jane busied herself with her breakfast again, Maura spoke. "No sign of his erectile-dysfunction medication."

Jane had momentarily forgotten about the particulars of this case, a man who injected himself with ED drugs because his heart couldn't handle viagra. _Gag._ "Still eating," she joked, but then turned serious at the implication. He had been given something else. By someone else. In a syringe. "Well he was injected with something. What was it?"

"I'm still testing," said Maura, careful to swallow very intentionally before talking. "I dissected his heart tissue. And whatever drug was injected did cause a heart attack."

"Hmm. So something he was not used to taking somehow got in him, by way of somebody else, and it killed him," Jane posited.

"That's correct," said Maura. "Are you going to eat that last slice of bacon?" she asked sheepishly, already reaching for it.

"Knock yaself out. Uh, shit," Jane replied, and when she glanced up, she saw none other than Hope Martin walking through the doors of headquarters. "Don't panic, but Hope just walked in."

"What?" Maura said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like panic as she shot up from her chair. Jane shot up with her when Hope entered the cafe and came up behind them.

"There you are," the older woman said, and Maura turned to see her.

"Hello, Dr. Martin. Hi." Jane was all banal professionalism again. She grabbed the towel from Maura's neck when Maura looked at her for help. "Have a fabulous day. Call me later." Jane offered none, sensing Hope's desire to speak to Maura alone, and walked off with the towel and her coffee towards the elevators.

"I feel the need to apologize for Cailin," said Hope, grasping at the straps of her purse, black against her black trench coat, clearly nervous in the way that she addressed Maura.

Maura let that fact put her own discomfort at ease. "No, please don't. You know, I was 18 once, and her life has been disrupted, so, it's all right. I, I just feel bad for you," she said.

Hope placed her head down and shook it. "Cailin is actually very ill, which is why I brought her back to Boston."

Maura's features turned grave. "Have a seat." She motioned for Hope to sit at one of the tables close to Jane's. "Ill with what? Can you say?"

Hope nodded. "She contracted a bacterial infection while I was doing relief work in Africa."

"You can't blame yourself."

"She's in desperate need of a kidney transplant," Hope said, to show that it was serious enough for her to blame herself. "And of course I would give her one of my own in a heartbeat, but… we're not a match. And neither is her father. You know, it is so ironic. I've helped so many patients and I cannot help my own child."

Maura, as she listened to their plight, couldn't help the sudden ache to cry. She held it in, thought about mothers and daughters and sisters, and said, "there must be something that I can do."

"No," Hope said resignedly. "There isn't. But I so appreciate the thought. I just wanted you to know in light of last night and because I… I trust you, Maura. I know we've just met, but I feel like I can confide in you."

Maura sickened herself with thoughts of the truth. How suddenly she felt like lying to Hope was awful, but also the only way to keep her glued together, especially given Cailin's grave condition. She smiled at Hope sadly, who patted her wrist.

"Thank you for your ear," Hope said as she got up to make her exit. "You don't know how much of a help it's already been."

Maura knew what she had to do as soon as she saw her biological mother cross the street and get into her car.

* * *

Jane bit at her thumbnail as she waited for the elevator ding to signal her arrival to the crime lab. She hadn't seen Maura since the morning. Hope had seemed forlorn when she had walked into the cafe, more forlorn than one should be just because of a cranky teenager. Jane had only hoped that the woman wouldn't burden Maura with whatever the cause of that sorrow was, not two or three days into their very nascent relationship.

So, Jane steeled herself for a number of possible scenarios when she rounded the corner to get a good look at Maura - tears, anger, full-throttle avoidance through hard work. None of the scenarios she had envisioned, however, involved Maura thoughtfully holding a swab that clearly had been used on a water glass from last night's dinner. "Is that from last night and am I about to get sick?" she asked, worrisome.

Maura smiled and shook her head. "I think we're a match."

Jane smirked, her hands coming up from her sides to lean on the workstation playfully. "You're not really my type."

Maura gasped in fake hurt. "Me and Cailin," she replied.

"I think we're having different conversations," Jane said as she scrunched up her face in awkwardness.

"Cailin needs a kidney," Maura elaborated, "I needed a sample of her DNA."

"Y-you can't give her a kidney," Jane sputtered at the revelation, "I'm not done getting to know your kidneys."

Maura stood to meet Jane's eyes, to study them, to get lost in them. "It's my kidney, my love. I can give it to whomever I please."The term of endearment, sounding so effortless and timeless coming from Maura, barely softened the blow of what she intended to do.

"Oh, so you told Hope?" Jane asked pointedly - how Maura planned to donate this kidney, a match, to Cailin when they did not know that she was their daughter and sister, was a mystery.

"I'm going to donate anonymously," Maura said resolutely.

Jane angered on behalf of Maura. It came out as angry _at_ Maura. She grabbed a nearby scalpel and brandished it. "You need any help getting it out, or are you gonna do that by yourself, too? No, Maura. You can't do it. What are you thinking? No."

"Cailin's dying, Jane, and Hope is overwhelmed. The last thing she needs is to relive the worst event of her life - my birth. And death," Maura said.

Jane sighed, moved by Maura's compassion and selflessness. "I guess I just don't get it." She shook her head.

"If I… If I tell her who I am, I'll be a reminder of her tragic past. I'll never be anything else to her," Maura said quietly. Jane smiled at her. "What? You only need one kidney," explained Maura.

"I know," Jane said. "You're incredible."

"You'd do the same for one of your brothers."

"Maybe," Jane hedged, "they'd have to be really, really nice. I'd definitely do it for you, though."

"You would?" asked Maura, voice breaking, knowing the truth but wanting to hear it anyway.

"In a heartbeat," Jane confirmed, leaning closer. "In fact, I'd give you that, too."

"Your heart? But then you'd be dead," Maura pointed out in horror.

"Well, if you needed it, I'd give it. No point in bein' alive if you're dying."

"You can't donate your heart to someone if you're still alive, Jane."

"Would you just let me be good to you? Huh?" asked Jane, wanting a kiss but accepting the fleeting fingertip against her chin given the amount of criminalists in the lab at noon.

"Yes," Maura conceded. "But I'd rather you be good to me in more practical ways."

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Have dinner with me tonight. And stay over. Maybe your brothers can come."

Jane grimaced. "You want my brothers to join our sleepover?"

Maura laughed openly at the thought. "Absolutely not. But they can share a meal with us, can't they? They've avoided my house like the plague since we… announced. I'm not sure I like it."

Jane felt warm at the sentiment. "Alright, then. Rizzoli kids it is. I'll text 'em. We need to come up with a game plan for when Pop eventually comes after us about Ma, anyway," she thought out loud, straightening up to face the outside world again. "Anything I need to bring?"

"A change of clothes. Or several," Maura said seriously.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Anything dinner-related?"

Maura considered it, settling on a diplomatic answer. "Wine? I've got food covered."

Jane smirked. "Hint taken. I will bring the best bottle of wine Trader Joe's has to offer," she promised as she walked towards the double doors of the lab, pushing them out with her back.

"Jane!"

"Kidding!"

* * *

Maura settled the files around her, and resolved to send a few more e-mails before the end of her day, before she could go home and be with Jane, Frankie, and Tommy. Her time with her mother, with Hope, had been volatile to say the least - there had been high highs and precipitous lows. Emotions had run high on both sides, and while Maura could account for that in herself, Hope's reactions had remained mysterious until this morning.

Cailin was gravely ill. And she was gravely ill in a way that seemingly only Maura could help. At least, Maura was the only sure option for life that Cailin had. Maura did not have children, she wasn't sure if she wanted them, but watching your child die slowly from a disease she got because of your work, and then being able to do nothing to help her, despite being a doctor, had to be a special kind of agony.

In fact, Maura read the agony on Hope's face easily as she walked down the hall of the crime lab toward her office, escorted by one of the senior criminalists, appearing as if conjured by Maura's very thoughts. "Dr. Martin," Maura greeted when the criminalist had knocked on her open door, "please come in."

Hope couldn't muster a smile, but Maura rose up from her seat to meet her anyway. "I'm sorry to barge in yet again," said Hope, "there really was no one else that I could talk to."

"Well, you can talk to me. Please." Maura motioned Hope to the sofa and joined her there.

"Why is it so much easier to tell a stranger the most intimate details of your life?" lamented Hope.

Maura couldn't answer that; she didn't know. She found it equally difficult to open up to strangers and friends alike, often saying too much to people she barely knew and walling herself off from people she loved and who wanted to love her. "Because a stranger doesn't judge," was the best she could come up with.

"Hmm," Hope seemed to agree. "My daughter. I feel like I barely know her. She's just so angry. And she has the right - I took her to a place that made her sick, and I've made her live my life."

Maura pulled from her musings just before Hope had entered her office. "I don't have children, but I… I think I understand. I can't imagine all the complicated feelings you must be having."

"Well, no one makes you know you've failed the way your child does," Hope responded.

"I think all daughters feel that way about their mothers. We fear that we won't measure up," Maura said. Her mind ran through so many instances of her bids for Constance's affection, for her love, for even her acceptance. So many of those bids had failed, until only very recently.

"But it's a mother's job to protect her child. I've failed twice."

Emotion choked Maura, wound tight around her throat. "You said that you… that your first baby died. I mean, how can that be your fault? And Cailin, she's, she's a teenager, you know? It's her job to push you away. It says that she's strong, because of you."

Hope let a few tears fall. "Maybe," she nodded, touched and encouraged, "Mass General called today. They found a kidney donor for her. It's an anonymous donor, a complete stranger."

Maura smiled as brightly as she could without crying.

"Maura, I'm afraid I've already lost my daughter. Not to this illness, but-"

"No, you haven't. I know you haven't," Maura assured her.

"You have been so very kind," said Hope, "the kindest of strangers."

"It's been no problem," Maura said. Hope stood, and she stood with her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have dinner plans with Jane and her brothers. Are you going to be alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm going to be fine, I think. I hope that Cailin grows up to be half as accomplished and well adjusted as you, Maura. I hope she's able to find a fulfilling career and someone to love her, just the way you have. And now that she's got a donor, that hope doesn't seem so wild anymore."

Maura smiled and touched her mother's arm. "Oh, I'm not as well adjusted as you might think," she said, trying to sound comforting and not ominous. "Let me shut down my computer and I can walk you out?"

* * *

When Maura unlocked her door and stepped in, well past dark, all three Rizzoli siblings hovered around the kitchen island, pizza boxes still closed. She shuffled over to them tiredly, eyeing the pizza with suspicion.

"Hey, thought we were on for six," said Jane, looking at her watch. "That was an hour ago. Everything ok? What happened?"

"Hope came by," Maura said in a daze. She accepted the hug offered to her by Jane, leaving her items at the hall table and taking comfort in the strong arm around her shoulders as she squeezed Jane's midsection tightly.

"Uh oh," Frankie said, pulling from his beer. His hair was still styled and perfect, but he was out of his uniform, now in a t-shirt and jeans. "How was that after last night?"

"How did you know about last night?" Maura asked, smirking at him. "And how did pizza get here? I thought I told Jane I had food taken care of."

"We uh, we wanted pie," Tommy piped up over his glass of water, "but Janie told us about last night. Sorry, Maura. We didn't mean to butt in."

"Don't apologize. It's kind of nice to have people that know me so well. Did you at least get me veggies?" asked Maura, extricating herself from Jane's arms and opening the two boxes on the counter.

"Yup," said Jane. "We each got half a pie to ourselves. What did Hope have to say? You alright?"

"I'm ok. She wanted to tell me that… well, that Mass General called her with an anonymous donor for Cailin."

"Wait, what's wrong with Cailin?" asked Frankie. He got up and started to pull down plates from the cupboard. "Besides the obvious attitude problem."

"She's uh, she's sick, brother. She needs a new kidney," Jane explained, gratefully accepting a dish from him. "And Maura here has… decided to donate one of her own, anonymously."

"Oh hell. Why? She couldn't even be bothered to stay for your dinner party," Frankie scoffed.

"She's my sister, Frankie," Maura said, "I can't just let her die if I know for certain I can help her."

Frankie shrugged. "I guess so," he said as he separated a few slices from the rest and piled them on his plate. "You gonna tell Hope? Seems like that's a big secret to keep on top of a lotta already big secrets."

Maura marveled at the way Jane's and Frankie's brains worked so identically. She glanced between them, shooting Jane a questioning look, as if to ask if they had planned it. Jane was too busy serving herself to see it.

"That's what I said," replied Jane. "I think you gotta tell her, Maura."

Tommy leaned over to see what toppings were left. "I dunno, how bad is it gonna hurt her? Sometimes we keep secrets because we know that it'll be less hurtful for someone than the truth," he said. He sucked the grease off his thumb and dusted a few crumbs from his flannel shirt.

"Oh yeah? What kinda secrets are you keepin', huh?" Jane pressed him, her sculpted brows down and forward as she looked at him. "Besides the fact that you set up Pop with Lydia."

"Ok, can you not fight over dinner?" Maura asked, standing between them. "I'm going to go upstairs and change. Think you can manage some civility until I come back?"

"We're not fightin'," Jane said as she rubbed the back of her neck, and Tommy punched her shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, given that we've actually fist-fought, this is just a regular weeknight, right Janie?" he smiled, the one that usually disarmed all the women he came into contact with.

Maura was not all women, though, and Frankie had that in mind as he stepped in. "I'll keep the peace, Maura. Go change."

"Thank you," said Maura, smiling at him, touching his arm. "At least one of you is a voice of reason." She set her plate down and went up the stairs. She could hear the three of them chattering away, the topic switching to sports as soon as she was out of their sight, and their presence, the loudness it brought to her home, calmed some of the turmoil in her heart. She stretched her neck gingerly when she reached her bedroom, still meticulous from when she had tidied it that morning, and she set about removing her blazer and blue blouse to hang until dry cleaning day. She took a simple black scoop-neck tee from her dresser, right below the drawer where Jane left her firearm and badge, accentuating it with a low-hanging gold necklace just above the dip between her breasts.

Most things she wore she picked for herself, but also now for Jane. She quite enjoyed this part of any new relationship, curating how she looked to please her partner, finding out what they liked her in best. With Jane, the payoff was exponentially greater than before, because she _knew_ her. She knew what Jane liked to see on her, because Jane had always liked looking. But now that Jane was allowed to look, Maura felt allowed to manipulate her wardrobe to the exact specifications that made Jane weak in the knees, rather than get dressed and then hope for the best in order to maintain fair play. Being with Jane gave her permission to actively choose the skinny jeans she painted onto her legs now, knowing how Jane would try valiantly not to look when her brothers were around, knowing that it would make Jane fidgety, impatient, and anxious to fall into bed. Because now, they were _allowed_ to fall into bed.

She slipped on her flats and then looked in the mirror, satisfied that her outfit served twin purposes: comfort and seduction. Jane loved both, so Maura intended to give them to her. And that was the mistake that so many men made with Jane when they attempted to woo her - no comfort, all frills, like Dean had been, or all comfort and no frills, like Casey. Her Jane needed an equal marriage between the two, and needed them tailored to her. Frills like expensive Red Sox tickets, or trips to museums (though she'd never admit to liking them), were a must. Frills like flowers and chocolates were tolerated, but not specific and therefore not needed. And comfort, well, Jane very much liked comfort. Jane liked the comfort of her everyday life, the way a well-worn hoodie fit just perfectly in the fall time, or the way Maura could wear a t-shirt but still smell like a two-hundred dollar bottle of perfume: the perfect blend of both of their everyday lives.

When Maura reached the bottom of the stairs and bounded back into the kitchen, Jane was engaged in the old comfort of discussion with her brothers. And they liked to shout when they discussed. Maura patted herself on the back for giving this comfort to Jane this evening, even if it was also a little bit for her. Well, a lot a bit for her.

"There's no way it makes sense to keep him in when you know you have a lock down guy in the 'pen," Jane argued, seated on the right side of the dining table, her brothers on the left.

"Ok but he's your ace, Janie," Tommy said, hands out to protect himself as he watched Jane get more and more heated. "Don't you want your ace out there to handle things when it's the seventh and the game's on the line?"

"I dunno, Tommy," Frankie wasn't sure whether or not he bought it.

Jane didn't even entertain buying it. "Sure, but when is your ace not your ace anymore? If you look at the numbers, Buck's not your ace the third time through the order. Batting average skyrockets off of him the third time 'round."

"Oh, hey, Maura," Frankie said, waving her over to the seat across from him. "Saved you a spot. Sorry about all the baseball stuff."

"Yeah, with the playoffs goin' on, it's kinda all we talk about," Jane said, smiling with her eyes as much as her mouth as she pulled out Maura's chair.

"Oh it's fine," Maura said to Jane, "I quite like it when you spout statistical theory. Unexpected, but titillating."

Jane, Frankie, and Tommy all blushed darkly. "Ok, geniuses, then solve this riddle. If all of what you said is true, then why did we lose after we took Buccholz out?" asked Tommy, after a generous clear of his throat.

"Because it wasn't the guy they sent out for the hold that blew it! It was the guy they sent out for the save!" Jane, now recovered, shouted over a mouthful of pizza.

"A'right, a'right, Castiglione and Merloni, leave it alone. Point is we lost, and ya can't change that. As the only person at the table who has played semi-professional ball, let me tell you that it's better to just turn the page and prep for game 3," Frankie jumped in, thrusting his chest toward them, arms out on either side. Maura chuckled behind a napkin. "Now eat, will ya? I could choke you both for making me sound like Ma," he finished, behind back in his seat.

"Your diplomacy is much appreciated," said Maura, patting his hand, "how is your mother doing, by the way? I haven't seen her pretty much all day."

Tommy folded a slice of pepperoni in half and took a huge bite. "Janie thinks she's got a boyfriend," he said.

"I do, too," Maura replied, her bite much smaller and cut off with a fork and knife, the utensils having been put out for her, and her heart pumped a little harder, a little faster, when she realized it could have been any one of the siblings that did so. They all cared about her enough to know she quite sacreligiously ate pizza this way, and they accepted it anyway.

"Maura thinks it's Cavanaugh," Jane said, eyes wide and concerned at Frankie.

"Wouldn't surprise me. I've seen 'em makin' googly eyes at each other over the counter almost every day this past week," he conceded. "We can still hope it's not true, though."

"Cavanaugh, your boss Cavanaugh? Awkward." Tommy giggled behind his water and the reverberation of it clattered around the glass.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me. I can't think about it for more than a few seconds," Jane griped.

"How do you think your father's going to take it when he comes back and she's with someone?" asked Maura.

"He better just grin and bear it. With all he's done, he doesn't really have a leg to stand on," Frankie growled into his beer.

"Yeah, after ditching Ma for some random... lady, I wish he _would_ say something," said Jane.

Tommy, ever the outlier, shrugged again. "I mean hopefully he doesn't say anything. But Pop seems happy with Lydia." He made pointed eye contact with Maura.

Jane only missed it because she had thrown her head back in disbelief. "That's because she's a shiny new toy, Tom. Of course he's happy with her."

"No matter what the three of you think about Lydia, or your father, I know you would never do what he did," Maura said seriously. "You would never abandon your family."

"That's supposedly somethin' he taught us," Frankie said quietly. He bunched his napkin and tossed onto his plate, clearly affected by the notion.

"So let's just carry it on, a'right?" said Tommy to his older sister and brother, who had turned taciturn. "So Pop screwed it up. Doesn't mean we have to. You guys coulda gave up on me when I was in prison, but you didn't. I'm not gonna give up on Ma or you guys either. We can be better than him. And when he eventually tries to get us to sway Ma, we just all gotta stay strong and tell him she's already made up her mind."

"You got a lot more goin' for you than people give you credit for, brother," Jane smiled at him, moved.

They talked about family, about baseball, about work, for another two hours. Plates were put into the dishwasher, decaf coffee was brewed and served with some of the leftover lemon cake from the previous night's dinner party, and the four of them migrated to the living room for the remainder of their evening together, until Tommy yawned exaggeratedly and informed them about the early start of his shift. Frankie stood with him, citing Tommy as his designated driver, and soon goodbyes were said amongst them just before the boys exited the side door to Tommy's car.

"I'm glad we did that," Maura said, rolling her head to the side on the back of the couch, admiring the way Jane's long legs looked sitting next to her.

"Me too," Jane responded, leaning over to kiss Maura quickly. "They're not so bad, huh? I gotta shower. I sweated all day today."

"Ok," Maura agreed, but held onto the collar of Jane's button up to kiss her longer, with more intensity. She tasted like coffee and a burst of citrus from the cake they had all eaten. "Go. I'm going to tidy up in here for a bit."

"OK, but you gotta let me," Jane chuckled, and then was released. "I'll be back down when I'm done."

Maura nodded, and away Jane went. She heard the jets of her showerhead burst to life, and dresser drawers slam shut as Jane moved about the room, waiting for the water to warm. Jane navigated Maura's bedroom like it was her own, and it had been that way since after she'd first spent the night. Secretly, this aspect of their friendship enamored Maura, even before they had slept together. It was just like the way the Rizzoli brothers took to her house as if it were their own home, and she felt loved, accepted in light of that fact, when someone knocked on the door.

Thinking Tommy or Frankie had left something behind, she smirked on the way to it, ready to jibe them as soon as she opened it. "What did you- Cailin?"

Her sister, half-sister, stood on the other side of the threshold, tears just about to spill over onto her cheeks. "Hi," she croaked.

"Hi, come in," Maura hesitated, unsure how to handle the emotion wafting from Cailin, but moving aside anyway.

Cailin pushed past her, holding an iPad to her chest, turning on her heels when she reached the middle of the floor. "Do you know what the name 'Cailin' means?"

"No," Maura said honestly. Confusion drew her brow upward and crossed her left arm over her right.

"It means uncertain," Cailin spat. "That's the name that my mother picked for me. 'Maura' means great."

"Yes, I know," Maura replied, approaching her slowly.

"That's the name she picked for you."

Maura's mouth opened in epiphany, but luckily, it was almost imperceptible. "Cailin, please let me explain-"

"Hmm-" interrupted Cailin, "can you explain why you called my mother out of the blue with some bullshit story?" she thrust the iPad toward Maura, an article highlighting her relationship with Paddy Doyle on its screen.

"It's really complicated," Maura tried again, holding her hand out.

"She's trying to bond with me now, since I'm dying," Cailin said sarcastically, "you know, to make up for all those years she wasn't there."

"You're not going to die," Maura assured her, but clearly her sister was on a roll.

"'Don't - don't do what I did, Cailin,' she says. Right. Like I'm gonna have time to fall in love," she said pointing right at Maura's heart, especially bitter at this part of Maura's life, of Hope's life, "or get pregnant, have a baby… hold that baby once before she dies..."

Maura bit the inside of her lower lip to fight tears. Her eyes shined, full of them. "Cailin, I-"

"I went snooping. I found it in the bathroom. I mean, it _is_ my mom, isn't it? And that's, that's your gravestone. Which is weird, because you look ok to me," Cailin shouted as she walked over to the drawing of Hope, scoffing at it.

"Please just let me explain. I didn't mean for any of this to-"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up in the shadow of a dead baby?" Cailin interrupted again, now just inches from Maura's face. In the distance, police sirens wailed, moving closer and closer. The whine grew louder as they talked. "I was never enough!"

"Baby! What the hell are uniforms doin' out front?! Did you call 'em?!" Jane shouted from the staircase, clamoring down the steps in only a sports bra and some hastily thrown on jogging shorts, hair still dry and water droplets on her skin. She stopped short when she saw both Maura and Cailin close to the dining table.

"You are more than enough. She loves you," Maura said, needed to say, before she acknowledged Jane behind her. "I know you think I should have told her, that I should have told both of you, but I...:"

"Yeah, yeah, you should have. Did you know about this?" Cailin looked past Maura's shoulder at Jane, "when you tried to bond with me, make me like you?"

"Yeah, kid," Jane answered quietly and evenly, hands at her sides. "Yeah I did. But it's not my place to air out your family business."

"That's shitty, Jane," Cailin said with war in her eyes, marching toward them.

"I want to help you," Maura darted in front of Cailin, between her and Jane.

"I don't want your kidney. I figured that was you. You don't get a match like that from a stranger."

Maura couldn't help the few tears that escaped. "Cailin, please," she begged, "please don't throw your life away because of what you think of me."

"I don't want any part of you living in me. You're a liar and a manipulator," Cailin whispered virulently.

"Hey," Jane bounded toward Cailin, finger out, arm stretched, no longer harmless, "you don't know that the fuck you're talkin' about-"

"Cailin!" Hope's voice, quivering and anxious, called out as she ran into the house through the unlocked front door, and all three women turned around. She had clearly been crying, quite hard by the looks of the red in her eyes and the tremble in her fingers as she reached out for her youngest daughter. "What is going on?" Two uniformed officers stood at the door. When they caught Jane's gaze, she shook her head for them to stay back.

"You followed me?" Cailin asked, incredulous.

"Well, you took our car!" Hope defended herself, though she needed no defending given Cailin's erratic behavior.

"Hope," Maura said definitively, with resolve when she looked at Jane standing close beside her, "there's something I need to tell you."

"Maura," Jane reached out, having been the advocate for this confession, but now unsure if now was the time or place.

Maura continued anyway. "I'm Paddy Doyle's daughter."

"What…?" Hope said, flummoxed, pulling Cailin into her arms to anchor herself.

"I'm _your_ daughter," Maura said, and Hope fell from flummoxed to broken. "Paddy told you that I died at birth. I am not looking to be your daughter, I - I have a mother and a father. I just wanted you to know-"

"Just stop!" Hope pleaded sharply, openly sobbing now. "I don't know who you are or what you want, but I've had just about as much as I can bear. Cailin, honey, let's just go."

"Listen - I don't know where the hell you two get the nerve, but you need to stop insinuating what you're insinuating before I get good and pissed off," Jane came forward, and there was the shoulder in front of Maura again - bare, cocked forward in a threat. Maura herself couldn't catch the sob that bubbled out of her chest. "So I think you're right - the best thing for you to do would be to get the hell out. Now."

Maura grasped onto Jane's hand tight as she motioned for the two uniforms to see the Martins to their car.

* * *

"You need the tissues?" Jane croaked into the crook of Maura's neck when she felt the smaller woman start to shudder again.

Hope and Cailin had left hours ago. Jane had fallen asleep wrapped around Maura from behind shortly after that, body melded to Maura's back, holding her while she slept in fits and starts. She'd been reaching backwards for the tissue box on her nightstand each time Maura woke up. She did it again now, a sliver of skin exposed at her midsection as she stretched her free arm toward the kleenex and brought a couple to Maura.

"Thank you," Maura whispered, blowing her nose and then tossing the used tissue into the already prodigious pile on her own nightstand.

"Mmhmm," Jane grunted when she fell back into place and into a twilight consciousness between sleep and waking. "I dunno what to say."

Maura sighed. "You're doing enough. You're more than enough," she said, rubbing her hand slowly against the skin of Jane's forearm that draped over her side. "It's just… out of all the scenarios I thought of, that wasn't one of them."

"Mmm," Jane hummed, her breathing evening out. She sensed Maura tense in disappointment at her lack of response, registered it against her arms and her torso as she slipped into sleep. "She's in denial," she finally forced herself to whisper, "she's in shock. Imagine, how would you react if a grown woman walked up to you and said, 'how ya doin', I'm your… dead baby'?"

Maura let out a humorless chuckle. "I don't think I said, 'how ya doin','" she teased.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane snarked, burrowing deeper into the base of Maura's skull, inhaling the flowery, feminine scent there. "I'm tired, Maura."

"You talk like that awake. Maybe she wouldn't be so mad at me if you had told her," Maura whined, scooting backwards even though there was already no room between them. "She very much likes you and your accent. You have a way of endearing yourself to people who are related to me."

"Yeah, except Paddy Doyle. Don't beat yourself up, Maura. She woulda reacted like this regardless."

"Believe it or not, he likes you, too. But what about Cailin, her reaction? If she doesn't let me help her, she'll die."

Jane huffed air into Maura's ear. "Babe, you can't force your kidney on her."

Maura sniffed. "I wish I could," she cried. "I don't know. I never, ever meant to cause them any pain. It's just so awful," she said against the crisp of her pillow.

"Well, I tried to warn you. Family sucks, period," whispered Jane. She reached behind her again and handed Maura another kleenex. "Blow," she ordered between four loud kisses near the nape of Maura's neck.

"No," Maura said firmly. She dabbed at her eyes with her finger.

"No?" asked Jane.

"No. I'm all cried out. Ok? I'm done. I'm done," resolved Maura. She adjusted the sheet under their arms and turned over to look up into Jane's sleepy face. "I'm over them. I'm ready to cultivate the family that really matters to me."

"I'm officially lost."

"You, my love. You, your brothers, your mother. Tonight with you and Tommy and Frankie felt so nice. It felt worth something. Worth protecting."

Jane smiled indulgently, her eyes closed and her teeth glistening white in the moonlight. "We are pretty great."

"Yes," Maura agreed simply.

"So your stuff with Hope and Cailin didn't feel worth protecting?" Jane asked, rotating flat onto her back.

Maura winced at the ensuing pop of grinding vertebrae. "No," she answered. "And actually, I'm a little offended." She pressed her finger into Jane's sternum forcefully.

"What'd I do?"

"Not you. That girl _rejected_ my kidney."

Jane's left eyebrow curled up in solidary indignance. "The nerve," she growled.

"I know, right? It's a very nice kidney," Maura said, in a mock severity.

"It sure is," Jane asserted when she smelled the juncture of Maura's neck and jaw. "You should keep it. In your body. Where I'll take care of it."

Maura laughed, finally. "That doesn't make sense."

"Just sayin'," Jane grumbled, satisfied enough in her work to leave Maura for the bliss of REM cycles.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that all of you who celebrate have been enjoying the holiday season! This year has been trying on so many of us that I hope you found some peace. I've been curling up with a mug of tea and some of my favorite fics the past few days, which has really been great.
> 
> Drop me a line if you're enjoying the ride!

"I just don't think it's so bad that the doctors Parker didn't have children," said Maura, walking back up the steps of BPD headquarters with her hand on Jane's forearm to steady herself. Many weeks had passed since she last heard from Hope or Cailin, and she looked markedly better, felt markedly lighter. Her overall ebullience had returned and she smiled more often than not again.

Jane held the arm out for her valiantly, pleased by Maura's good mood. "I guess whatever floats your boat. But do you gotta look down on kids and the people who have them?"

Their crime scene had been gruesome: a psychiatrist couple gunned down in their own office, the husband shot clearly in the process of trying to protect his wife. "I think it's an unfair oversimplification to say that Dr. Parker looked down on children. I would say that she just wants to disrupt the patriarchal notion that women can't be happy without achieving the traditional family," Maura replied as they rode the elevator down to the morgue.

"Yeah, maybe. But it's not like it's a bad thing to have kids. She makes it sound like it's a bad thing," Jane said. When they reached the basement floor, she followed Maura into the changing area.

"Do you want kids? You're pushing awfully hard against the childless lifestyle," Maura asked. She slipped out of her heels in front of her station with its engraved name plate above her locker, and watched Jane in the doorway leaning against its frame in what seemed like practiced indifference.

"No. I mean, I wouldn't be opposed. But I can't imagine takin' months off work and bein' relegated to desk duty before that," Jane said. When Maura started to unzip her skirt, Jane pushed her shoulder off the threshold and stalked closer.

"Your job is too dangerous for you to carry a child," Maura argued, just above a whisper, because Jane was now so close. Jane towered over her, too, with her boots making her just over six feet tall, and Maura only 5'7" on her bare feet. She let her skirt drop to the changing mat below her with a sensual swish. "I would have to do it."

Jane gulped visibly, her thyroid cartilage prominent against her tensed throat. "Who, uh, who said you'd be the other parent?" she asked, her tongue unable to conjure up anything than Boston for the shock she was just dealt. She slipped two fingers on each hand into the slim waistband of Maura's panties, winding the fabric around them and tugging forward.

Maura lifted the hem of her blouse just so, letting Jane look at what she wanted to see. "You want me to have someone else's baby?"

Jane snarled at the notion and put their foreheads together, her eyes still down below. "No. But this is a big conversation for someone who wants to take it slow."

"Says the detective who is currently investigating the most intimate parts of me at work," Maura smirked as she talked, loving the way Jane's olive skin turned rosy, just like the magenta of her button up shirt. She put her thumbs on Jane's outstretched arms. "Help me finish."

Jane reluctantly removed her hands from Maura's hips and started undoing the buttons of her blouse. "Whenever I want, remember?"

"I do," said Maura, allowing Jane to look uninterrupted at her exposed belly, and then the black lace over her breasts. Jane groaned when Maura turned away from their embrace to pull her scrub top from its place on the locker's upper shelf. "Do you think you can be childless and have a fulfilling marriage?"

Jane blinked rapidly at her own whiplash. "What? No. With or without children, marriage is miserable."

"Oh, not so. Studies show that parent's happiness has remained steady since 1972, while non-parents' happiness has dropped," spouted Maura, wiggling her way into her top.

"You're bringing up some pretty heavy topics, Maura," said Jane, now holding out Maura's scrub bottoms on a curled finger. "Somethin' you wanna tell me?"

"I told you when Hope left. I'm committing to you, slowly but surely. I'm committing to this family. That means I have allowed myself to fantasize about… our future. Whatever that may hold. I'm going to autopsy Dr. Rod first. See you soon?" Maura asked, feet in her clogs and hair pulled back in a clip. Jane followed helplessly, reluctant to leave.

* * *

Angela Rizzoli pulled up to the curb of BPD, dressed to the nines, clearly quite pleased in her new silver Camry. "Frankie," she motioned toward her son, who had foolishly taken her call upstairs and then been roped into helping her. "The groceries are in the back, help me get them."

"I'm proud of you for saving up for your own car, Ma," he said, deciding that it wouldn't hurt him to be nice instead of snarky.

"Yeah, well, it's the nicest car I ever had. Janie went to the dealer with me, made sure I got a good deal," Angela said, popping the trunk.

"Yeah she went with me to buy my first car, too," Frankie chuckled, "never met a meaner negotiator." He took reusable bags from the trunk and set them on the bench nearby.

"You got that right. Well, let's get the food inside and I'll take you for a spin," Angela offered. "It's voice activated and you can search maps on it."

Frankie rolled his eyes good naturedly at his mother's wonder, and he didn't have the heart to tell her that most cars came standard with those things now. He watched her with affection as she leaned into the rearview mirror to check her lipstick, and for a moment he was content to forget she was possibly dating his sister's boss and just admire her as a human being.

His heart lurched when her head shot forward, nearly colliding with the windshield glass. A fraction of a second later, he heard the screeching tires behind them. "Ah!" Angela screamed, "oh my god! Somebody hit my brand new car!"

Frankie hustled to the bumper after he was sure that his mother was alright. Just as he readied himself to punch the lights out of the guy who had the nerve to bump his mother's car, he saw a very pregnant, petite woman emerge. She was blonde, and thin around her rather large belly, and distraught.

"Well, I didn't hit it very hard, did I?" she asked, unshed tears making her blue eyes look fat and glossy, "oh good, it's just a little dent."

"Just a little dent!" Came Angela's voice roaring behind them, "it's a brand new car!"

"Oh shoot, I'm, uh, I'm sorry. I'll get it fixed," the blonde whispered. She fished around her worn purse for a wallet, and Frankie noticed the wear on her jean jacket when she finally pulled it out.

"Oh, you bet you will! Don't you look where you're driving?!" Angela screamed, drawing stares from passersby as the two women hashed it out on the sidewalk.

"Can I just give you cash? I mean, um, is thirty dollars enough?"

"Are you kidding me? Frankie, tell me she's kidding me."

Frankie glared at his mother just as the younger, smaller of the two dropped several papers that fluttered to the ground. Her tears fell in earnest when she tried to bend down for them but found her stomach in the way. "Here, let me help you with that. Ma," Frankie whispered harshly.

"What?" Angela yelled back. He pointed to her very obvious pregnancy and Angela softened. "Oh. How uh, how pregnant are you?"

"Seven months," the woman sobbed all over again.

"A'right a'right, don't cry. We'll call your husband," Angela offered. Her sympathy was reluctant, but also very natural.

"Fiance," she replied quietly, shamefully. "Ex fiance. He dumped me."

"Oh," Angela said, suddenly with a lot more sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Here," Frankie said, standing up and holding her mail out for her. "That's, uh, that's a lot of unpaid parking tickets."

"Thank you. That's why I'm here. You're gonna boot my car if I don't sign up for a payment plan."

"There isn't really a payment plan."

"Then what am I gonna do? I lost my job, my roommate kicked me out because I couldn't pay rent… now I live in my car…"

Frankie heaved a sigh of commiseration and pity. He looked down at her tickets and his eyes widened at the name on them. _Lydia Sparks._ "Lydia?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yeah?" Lydia whined. Frankie shook his head in disbelief. Lydia Sparks was the name of his father's fiancee.

* * *

Frankie dropped Lydia off at the payment counter of BPD and stomped back towards the elevators. By pure happenstance, he saw his sister exiting into the lobby for a cup of coffee, and then he shoved her right back into the elevator.

"Frankie what the hell?!" Jane yelped as he grabbed her elbow and then pushed the stop button.

"I just saw Lydia. She's pregnant, Jane," he said to her.

Her face dropped in shock. "Oh my god. You're sure? _Lydia_ Lydia? Dad's fiancee, Lydia?"

"Yeah. I saw her name on some parking notices. Lydia Sparks."

"And you're sure she's pregnant?"

"She's out to here," Frankie motioned about a foot in front of his belly.

"Well, what do we do?!" Jane shrieked, arms flown out by her side, nearly slapping Frankie in the process.

"How the hell should I know?! You're the one who's supposed to know!" he yelled.

"Well should we call Pop?!" Jane matched his hysteria and their crazed eyes mirrored each other.

"No, she says he dumped her," Frankie whispered, vitriol in his words.

"Do we just not know him, or is he having some deranged, late midlife crisis? He had everything with us and he just threw it all away," Jane argued, just as angry and just as stymied by grief.

"Janie, she's living out of her car." Frankie's stance was solemn, and he began to cave into himself, hands on his belt. "What if that's our…?"

"Our brother or sister?" Jane asked, crazed again, hand on her forehead, Oh my god."

* * *

"Turn her over for me," Maura ordered Jane gently as she held a clipboard in her hands. Jane did. "What kind of cake would you have?"

"Uh, for what?" Jane stopped fiddling with Dr. Eve's lapels and looked up, confused.

"Your wedding," Maura said as though it were obvious.

"Who am I marrying, huh?" Jane smirked to hide her anxiety. "I thought we stopped talking about this hours ago."

Maura ignored her. "I'm going to have a hazelnut almond, chocolate ganache, and maybe mocha buttercream."

"You had me until mocha buttercream," Jane said.

"You love coffee," Maura protested.

"Coffee belongs in cups and not on cakes, Maura. Also, you're not getting married."

"Oh I know. I just think it's fun to play fantasy wedding, don't you?"

"If you're five," rebutted Jane.

Maura rolled her eyes. After a few beats of silence while scrutinizing the body on her slab, she spoke again. "What does your dress look like?"

"I don't wear dresses," Jane complained, stamping her foot. "Can we just get on with the autopsy please?"

"Oh come on. You must have fantasized about your wedding as a little girl," Maura teased.

"Once. I had a very high fever," Jane replied. "Why are we talking about this?"

"My gown," Maura paused with a finger in the air, prompting Jane to wait for the payoff, "would be silk charmeuse with an empire waist and a twenty-foot train. And the ceremony would be in the cliffs of Santorini, right above a volcano."

Jane nodded gravely. "And what if the volcano erupts on you and this imaginary guy?"

"Oh, I'd check for seismic activity, of course," Maura replied, just as seriously. "And I wanted to marry Antonio Benivieni when I was 12."

"You liked Italians even then?" asked Jane, with a crooked smile.

"Mmm, I suppose so. I think it was more about the fact that he pioneered the autopsy. But I'll admit that my name flows well with Italian surnames - I'd be Maura Dorthea Isles Benivieni."

"Dorthea's way better than Clementine. It suits you," Jane complimented her. Her forearms rested on the tools of her belt, her fingers tapping against her buckle. "But Rizzoli sounds better than _Benivieni_."

Maura's skin ran hot and her heart hammered in her chest. She spread her arms out against the cold table in front of her, licking her lips to gather herself, crossing her legs to stave off a dizzying wave of arousal and hope. "See? Fantasizing can be fun."

"Yeah, I guess so, Maura Dorthea Rizzoli," Jane taunted. Maura nearly combusted - _mission accomplished_. "I'll take care of her jacket."

"Ok," was all that Maura could say. As Jane worked, something metal clattered onto the autopsy table.

"Shit. That's a shell casing. Where's the bullet that went through Dr. Rod? She musta been shot first, then he was shot, and the casing flew off her sleeve," Jane held the casing up to the light, turning it on her fingertips. "Takes guts to throw yourself in front of anybody, even your wife."

"You'd do it for me," Maura finally gathered herself enough to speak, but what came out was a husky murmur.

"Yes I would. Wife or not. Can't say the same about my father," Jane scoffed, handing Maura the casing. "Speaking of, Frankie met _Lydia_ today."

Maura dropped the casing into a bowl on her tool tray and it clanged cacophonously a second time. She pursed her lips and looked everywhere but at Jane.

"You're looking very, very guilty," noticed Jane. She intimidated Maura with her hands on her hips. "What are you not telling me?"

"I promised Tommy that I-I wouldn't say," Maura said, scanning her surroundings for something, anything, to distract her.

Jane looked around, too, finally landing on a scalpel. She picked it up and held it out in a threat. "Huh, this looks very sharp."

Maura held up her hands. "Ok. _Ok_. But don't get mad. We were fighting when I learned this information."

"What's there to get mad about, Maura?" Jane interrogated, stepping around the table and closer to her. "What do you know?"

"Tommy came to me for advice," Maura started. Jane dropped the scalpel on the table and pushed up close to her.

"What would Tommy need advice from you for? When was this? What were the two of you doin'?" Jane's questions came one right after the other, assaulted Maura with their precision.

"He came to me when he was on the job, Jane. He did try to hit on me," Maura volleyed to the woman in front of her, hoping she would fall on the grenade rather than stay true to her purpose.

It was in vain. "You rejected him though. Otherwise we wouldn't be standin' here. What do you know?"

Prolonging the inevitable wasn't working, so Maura steeled herself by snapping off her gloves and running her hands back and forth over the slopes of Jane's trapezii. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jane said, reciprocating reflexively.

"Tommy told me that he had sex with Lydia shortly before he introduced her to your father," Maura confessed.

Jane shouted loud enough for the whole basement floor to hear. "What?! Tommy slept with Lydia?!"

"Shh!" Maura shushed her. "I told you not to get mad!"

"I'm not mad at you!" Jane shouted, "I'm mad at my idiot brother! God, so that baby could be Tommy's?"

"Wait, what baby?" Maura pulled back, confused.

"Lydia's pregnant, Maura! Frankie said she's already huge!"

"Oh, my god. Lydia's pregnant?"

"That's what I said. God. What the hell am I gonna do?" Jane moved from rage to despair, rubbing her hands against her face to bring some blood back to it. The motion broke Maura's hold on her shoulders and her hands moved to her own sides again.

"I think you should tell your mother that Lydia's baby might be her grandchild," Maura said, tapping the toe of her shoe against the linoleum below.

"That baby might also be her ex-husband's bimbo's kid," Jane spat. "It's a good thing Tommy's fishing in the gulf. I want to kill him."

"No, you don't. You're upset, rightly so, but you don't want to kill him. He did something stupid," Maura said in response, "maybe that's why your father called off the engagement."

Jane had a dark epiphany. "Because Lydia told him that it might be Tommy's baby? No, no, no, no. This can't be happening. No, no, no, no." She pulled out her phone.

"Are you calling your father?" Maura asked, mortified.

"No, I'm gonna call Frankie."

Maura pulled the phone out of Jane's hand. "Uh uh. You can't tell him he might be an uncle over the phone."

"But…" Jane pouted, and Maura leaned forward to kiss the jutted-out lip.

"Absolutely not, Jane. Give it the work day and I will have him meet us at home so we can tell him in person."

* * *

"You're telling Frankie," Jane whispered into Maura's ear as she marched her, hands on the small of her back. They approached the front door of Maura's Beacon Hill home close to eight in the evening.

"I'm telling him what?" Maura asked as they pushed inside.

Frankie was already sitting at the kitchen island, halfway through a cup of black coffee, still in his uniform. "Ok, so, I'm here. What do you want to tell me?"

Jane pushed her right knuckles into the scar on her left palm. "No, uh, okay," she stuttered. "It's about Tommy, and he uh…" with Maura's hand taking her own to keep her from worrying her scar raw, she wavered. "I can't believe I can't say this."

Maura was heartened by Jane's gallant flip-flop. Just moments before in the courtyard, Jane demanded that she tell Frankie what Tommy told her. But now, Jane attempted to fall on the sword for her, when it counted. "He slept with Lydia," Maura said. Jane deserved a lot, but the least Maura could do was deliver her from this.

"He what?!" Frankie yelled, just like his sister earlier.

Maura was delivered from explaining by Angela bursting through the back door. "Maura!" she called out, Lydia barely conscious and in her arms, stumbling toward the living area.

"Lydia?" Jane and Frankie ran over to help, and they said her name in unison. Maura grabbed some supplies out of her medical bag, namely a thermometer and a pupil light.

"Oh, my god, Maura, she needs your help," Angela lumbered towards them with Lydia in tow.

"Oh, I don't feel so good," Lydia slurred, eyes barely open, head lolling back.

"This is Lydia Sparks. She ran into my new car," Angela introduced her hurriedly.

"Nice to meet you," Maura greeted.

"Can you tell the doctor what's wrong?" Angela asked.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Yeah, she's pregnant with your first grandchild and she's drunk," she muttered to Frankie.

"Let's uh, let's get her on the couch," Frankie said, ignoring Jane. "Ok, easy. I got it Ma." He shouldered Lydia and lifted her to the couch.

Lydia indulged in the feel of the oversized pillows on her back and cradling her sides. "I like couches," she sang, rubbing her thumb over the swirl patterns, until she locked eyes with Frankie, who finished setting her down. "Oh," she groaned, "you're really cute."

He turned to Jane in disbelief. _You kiddin' me?_ He mouthed.

"You mean you don't wanna be Rizzoli number three?" she raised her eyebrows at him as she whispered. "Hey Ma, why would you bring a drunk, pregnant stranger into Maura's house?"

"She came to the cafe to apologize. She felt bad."

"So, you cheered her up with malt liquor?"

"No, Jane. We had pasta, salad, some water."

"Oh," Lydia moaned again, trying to get up while Maura looked into her eyes with her light, "I have to pee."

"Again? Maura, she just went," Angela said as she looked down at her children and Maura tending to Lydia, worried that she'd done something awful.

"Lydia," Maura said to her sweetly, "are you thirsty?"

"Uh huh, I'm really thirsty," she replied.

"Ok. Frankie, call an ambulance," Maura ordered.

Frankie, grateful for the reason to get up, spoke into his shoulder radio, calling for medical services.

Maura turned to Jane next. "Get her some orange juice."

"Can't she just sleep it off in her car?" Jane whined.

"She has gestational diabetes," said Maura severely.

"Well, how bad is that?"

"Bad. She's slipping into a diabetic coma."

"Shit."

Lydia moved her head to the sound of Jane's raspy voice, when she saw Frankie coming back around to Jane's left side. "Will you hold my hand? I'm really scared," Lydia held her hand out for Jane to take, batting her eyes, blue and big, as seductively as she could given the circumstances.

"You wanna be Rizzoli number four?" Frankie asked Jane snarkily. She crossed her eyes at him as she snarled.

But, Maura stiffened when Jane leaned forward and took Lydia's hand anyway. "Ok. Um, it's gonna be ok, a'right? We're uh, we're gonna take care of you. Ambulance is on its way, and I got you til then," Jane knelt down, rubbing her fingers up and down Lydia's clammy arm.

"I'm going to get her that orange juice," Maura snapped, heels clipped and loud against the wood floor in the kitchen.

Jane looked up in surprise. She attempted, at least three times, to make eye contact with Maura while she poured juice into the glass, but to no avail. "How far out, Frankie?"

"'Bout five minutes, Jane," Frankie reassured her. "They'll be here in no time."

* * *

The ambulance had indeed come quickly, and Angela had Frankie drive her behind it so that she could make sure Lydia was ok. That left Jane to stand in the kitchen with Maura's now subdued mood. "What's goin' on with you?" she chased after Maura, who scrubbed hastily at Frankie's abandoned mug.

"I don't like how I'm feeling," Maura said without looking at Jane, inches behind her. "It lacks integrity."

"What do you mean?" Jane asked, "you wanna kill Lydia, too?"

Maura chuckled. "No, I don't."

"That didn't sound very convincing," commented Jane, leaning her backside against the counter by the sink.

"No?" Maura inquired, "why not?"

"Because you basically scrubbed all the gloss off of that mug," Jane answered.

Maura shut off the water and sighed, her lips retracted in a pretty half-smile, one that said she was bashful. Jane leaned forward to get a better look at it, and Maura couldn't help but reach a hand out to stroke the strong jawline just across from her own. "Well, I don't want to kill her for the reasons that you all do, at least."

"Because she sweated all over your brand new couch?" smiled Jane. "She was pretty sweaty."

"Because I'm jealous," Maura spit out.

"Of _Lydia_?" asked Jane, incredulous.

"I told you, it lacked integrity," said Maura quietly.

"What on Earth do you have to be jealous about? That she hit on me and Frankie? She was halfway dead," Jane insisted. "And it's not like we were gonna do anything anyway. She's a fuckin' mess."

Maura watched Jane cross her arms in front of her, watched the way it drew the fabric of her button-up tight against her midsection. Her jealousy spiked at the thought of Lydia seeing, wanting the same, but it was a small flame compared to the fire of everything else Lydia had seemingly accomplished in the last seven months. "It's not that." At Jane's suspicious brow, she amended. "It's not _just_ that. She somehow, despite being so hapless, has managed a permanent fixture in your family. How did that happen?"

"She fucked Tommy and then my dad," Jane deadpanned, "and one of 'em got her pregnant. That's how it happened."

Maura wrinkled her nose. "That's not very pleasant to think about."

"No, it's not. Hence the wanting to throttle her part. And you don't think you're a permanent fixture? You were here first, Maura."

"I-"

"Don't think she's here for good just because she's sick. We're throwing Lydia back in the pond as soon as she gets out of the hospital. And you're stuck with us whether you like it or not. Forever, a'right?"

"That's a very assured view of our future, Jane." Maura's words should have sounded like some kind of admonishment, but she smiled too brightly as she said them.

"Yeah well, no matter what happens between you and me, you're here to stay."

Maura dried her hands, used her foot to close the door of the dishwasher, and wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders, kissing her gently, confidently. "That's very sweet of you to say."

"I mean, Ma needs a place to live, so…" Jane teased, leaning forward to initiate another kiss when Maura pulled back. She tried again, and Maura hovered just far away enough to be out of reach.

"As romantic as you are, you can be equally unromantic," Maura said, eyes half closed and cheeks pink with desire.

"I'm complicated," said Jane. "But I want somethin' pretty uncomplicated right now."

"What's that?" Maura played dumb, twisting a finger lazily into a lock of Jane's hair.

"You," rasped Jane. The answer was simple, but effective. Maura ceased her withholding and let Jane's mouth find hers again. Jane made her intentions clear when she bunched Maura's skirt higher and higher at the sides, when she let Maura grasp her tongue in between flawless, practiced teeth.

"I'm thinking of freezing my eggs," Maura murmured helplessly as they made out against the kitchen counter.

Jane stopped, put her hands on the lip of the counter on either side of Maura to trap her. "You slippin' into a coma, too? What brought this on?"

"No. I just am not sure if marriage is or isn't for us. And if it is-"

"Maura…" Jane pleaded, interrupted.

"And if it is, if all of it is, the marriage, the house, the _family_ , I would like to preserve my option to have children," Maura explained, feeling Jane deflate in relief against her.

"That sounds fair," Jane acquiesced, squeezing Maura tight at the midsection and lifting her so that her heels floated above the ground.

Maura yelped and laughed when Jane placed a forearm under her ass to lift her up even further. She held on for the ride, kicked off her shoes in the hall as they moved toward the staircase. "Perhaps I _should_ slow down, however. See if you're worth it. I wouldn't want you running away to Florida to shack up with some waitress just as I find out I'm pregnant."

Jane grunted as she walked the both of them to the top of the stairs. She set Maura down gently at the bedroom door and smiled. "And risk Paddy Doyle coming to blow my head off? No way. Now get in there so we can cause some seismic activity of our own."

Maura laughed loudly, hand to her own chest to steady herself, head thrown back and throat bobbing. "That was awful."

Jane shrugged. "Yeah yeah, a'right. Let's fuck. Better?" she asked as she pushed the door open and led them inside.

Maura smirked. "Much."


	19. Chapter 19

"Next thing we do together is gonna be somethin' fun. Like a Spinners game. Or a brewery tour. Or some peace and quiet on the couch," Jane, dressed in a leather jacket, fitted slacks and tall black heels, griped her way into Maura's home.

"You did get a convertible satchel," Maura observed, as though the bag weren't something she had had to convince Jane to buy, or as though one purchase excused two hours on Newbury Street in the height of Saturday morning foot traffic.

"And blisters," mumbled Jane, kicking her shoes off immediately. She stopped short of entering the living room, her intended destination for a night full of NBA basketball, when she saw wall-to-wall baby paraphernalia. "Maura, is there something you wanna tell me?"

"Huh?" Maura asked distractedly as she sorted her bags to be put away by category later.

"The baby shit!" Jane whispered harshly, gesticulating to the crib, car seats, mobiles, and stuffed animals littered across Maura's floor.

"Oh!" Maura exclaimed softly when she finally turned to see it all. "It's not mine."

"You sure? Even after all that freezing your eggs talk?" Jane raised her eyebrow.

"Jane, that was two days ago. Of course I haven't done it since then," Maura said in reply, shaking her head.

"You're freezing your eggs?" Angela's head popped up from behind a pile of diaper bags, eyes wide and shiny. She looked right at Maura as she asked her question.

"Angela," was all that Maura said, all that she could bring herself to say.

"My mother's too old to have a baby," Jane snarked, turning to Angela.

"I could be a very young grandmother, though," Angela reasoned, turning towards Jane and quickly trotting over to her to take her into her arms.

Jane held her own arm out to stop her. "Uh uh. No crazy ideas. We are _not_ having a baby. What is all this stuff?"

Angela sighed. "I'm throwing a little baby shower for Lydia."

"Lydia?" Jane shouted.

"I hope it's ok," Angela asked, ignoring Jane and looking at Maura.

"No, that's not ok," Jane answered anyway.

"I'm not asking you, Jane," Angela rebutted.

Maura swallowed audibly. "Um, sure, yes," she agreed uncomfortably.

"What?" Jane, exasperated, turned to Maura in disbelief. "What happened to your seething jealousy?"

Maura just shrugged her shoulders helplessly as Angela went back to her post amongst the gifts.

"Janie, you've got your father's hands, come help me put this swing together," she ordered, and Jane followed despite her anger. "And, you know," Angela continued, "all of your girlfriends who have children gave me all their used baby stuff."

"Ma, Lydia's a stranger, ok? She ran into your car. The only thing you know about her is that she's a bad driver," said Jane, screwdriver already at work in her hand.

"She needs help. She's a sweet girl."

"Yeah well, her mother should be doin' this."

"She was raised by a single mother, and she's just not reliable," Angela whispered.

Jane's head shot up from her task. "Why are you lowering your voice?" She looked over at Maura fixing tea in the kitchen, who put her hands up as if to say she knew nothing. "Is she in the guesthouse, Ma?"

"Where is she registered?" Maura asked, in an attempt to be kind, but Jane was already stomping towards her.

"'Where is she registered'? Moochers-r-us!"

Angela had never answered Jane's question about Lydia in the guesthouse, because of course Lydia was in the guesthouse. Whether she was just over for breakfast, or whether she had stayed the night, Jane and Maura would never know, but when Lydia called out for Angela in the courtyard, Jane's fears were confirmed.

"Oh no. She can't come in here now and see all this stuff!" Angela said, running over to the back door just as it opened to reveal Lydia in a Penny Saver uniform. "Hello, Lydia!" she greeted, maneuvering Lydia artfully away from the scene just a few feet away.

"Hi," Lydia answered. "I-I was wondering if you could do-"

"Wondering what?" she was interrupted by Jane, who held a strong hand out for her to take.

"Oh sorry. I was just leaving," Lydia said demurely when faced with Jane, all draped in leather and crowned by wavy black hair down past her shoulders. The handshake was strong and warm.

"Hmm, Jane Rizzoli. Met you when you were passed out on Maura's couch," Jane's face, however, was comically bright, her eyes exaggeratedly nice, as though facial features themselves could be sarcastic.

"Oh, right," Lydia said. "I remember you two."

Maura stepped in to save Lydia from any more wrath that might come her way. "Is your gestational diabetes under control?"

"I guess," Lydia mused, "I mean, except when my sugars are high or low. When they're out of whack I get like, moody and stuff. Sweaty and dizzy."

Jane shot Maura a look as if to say _can you believe this_? Fortunately, both of their phones rang for work before their conversation could derail. "Well, gotta go. We have work."

"That is so sad that people have to get murdered," Lydia replied with a miserable look on her face. Then she brightened considerably. "But I'm off to work, too!"

"Yeah," Angela butted in, "Lydia got a big job at the penny saver discount bazaar."

"Yeah, I'm like, an assistant to, like, this cashier-in-training."

"Wow, like, that is big. Congrats," Jane mocked her. Maura snatched her by the elbow before any more verbal damage could be done, handed her her shoes and the on-call duffle that had made its home in one of the front hall totes, and then they were off to their scene.

* * *

Jane and Maura arrived on the street that had been blocked off in either direction, in between two old high-rise apartment buildings. The area was known as a hotspot for buying and selling drugs downtown, most usually crack cocaine, and also for its vibrant nightlife. Jane had worked it often, both as a DCU detective and as a homicide detective. Which meant that, Maura, too, knew it well. "You know, this Lydia shit has got to stop," Jane said as she pulled a pair of gloves over her long fingers. She had changed into her work suit and the black button up tucked into gray slacks felt much more comfortable than the outfit she had found herself in that morning.

"Then let's tell your mother," Maura goaded, smirking when Jane's eyes went wide.

"Oh yeah, let's tell my mother that the bun in Lydia's oven was either put there by my father or by my brother," Jane scoffed.

"I agree that it's not… positive news, but the more we hide it, the worse it'll be, I think. Trust me. I have experience, remember?" said Maura in return. She watched Jane morph into Detective Rizzoli as she swaggered several steps ahead to meet Korsak and Frost.

Frost, however, was not his usual upbeat self when he put his arm out to Jane. "Jane," he said softly, "have you heard?"

"No, what?" Jane replied, scanning the area for tragedy. As she did, she landed right on Frankie, crying openly just beyond the body of their victim. "What's wrong with Frankie?"

"The victim was a friend of his," said Frost.

"Shit, what? Who? Who is it?" Jane was back, Detective Rizzoli gone as soon as she came, when she bounded over to her brother.

Maura watched the scene unfold in pain and curiosity, her stomach suddenly heavy at the way the Rizzoli siblings gathered each other up in their arms, clearly upset. "It's Shane," Frankie cried. "It's Shane."

"Shane Finnegan?" Jane asked, and when Frankie nodded, she kissed the side of his head, telling him to stay put.

Korsak stood closer to Maura while she examined the body's wounds. Frost did, too. "He's the leader of a pretty famous boy band," said Frost, "the Channel Street Boys. Frankie grew up with him."

"Oh no," Maura responded sincerely.

Just then, Jane approached, sniffling. "How uh, how many times was he shot?"

Korsak answered. "Shooter fired five times, hit him four times. Entry wounds in each thigh, right shoulder and forehead. Fifth bullet was fired into the ground."

Maura, seeing Jane's discomfort, her sadness, cradled her with science. "Copper shrapnel embedded in the zygomatic arch and orbital margin." Information, specifically information that could help Jane solve who murdered Shane Finnegan, was therefore as precious a gift as she could give to the woman she cared about.

Jane nodded to her in thanks. "Copper shards are from the casing. What the hell was he doin' down here in the combat zone?"

"Might have been down here to score drugs," Korsak posited, pulling out his notebook.

"No way!" Frankie, now close by, growled at the sergeant.

Jane turned her back to her brother, stood directly behind Maura. "Maura, the sores on his lips, could those be from a crack pipe?"

"I'll have to take tissue samples," said Maura. "I can't be sure until I do."

That was all Jane needed. "C'mon Frankie, he was using again."

"He was clean," Frankie argued, "he went through rehab." His love for Shane and his need for respect from the Homicide division warred within him; his voice was quiet and tremulous.

Korsak shook his head. "He wouldn't be the first to fall out of rehab, kid."

"Look, you should not be working this case." Jane jabbed her finger into Frankie's chest.

"No, Janie. I have to. I gotta do somethin'," Frankie begged.

"Then go search the perimeter, a'right? Go look for the gun. Go on," ordered Jane.

"Come on, Frankie," Frost put his arm around Frankie's shoulders, patted his chest. "Come on, I'll go with you."

"Poor Frankie," Maura commiserated. She stood, held up a vial. "I think this could be cocaine hydrochloride in a freebase form."

"Somebody shot him four times over crack?" Jane questioned.

"First two shots came from there," Korsak pointed across the alley. "Both to the legs. Shooter didn't want him running."

"Who does that belong to?" Jane followed his finger, and saw the beat up oldsmobile abandoned just off to the side. It looked conspicuous.

"Registered to Shane," said Korsak, shrugging when Jane shot a look of confusion at him. "Maybe he drove a crappy car down here so he wasn't recognized?"

"Yeah," Jane agreed. It was possible. "A'right, well, let's get it back to headquarters, get it processed. God, what a damn shame," she cursed, words raspy and broken as she drew close to Shane again.

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Maura said sincerely. She hovered, respectfully distanced between Shane and Jane.

Jane shook her head, pursed her lips. "It's alright. Just wait for me at the station, ok? I uh, gotta go break it to his brothers before they read about it on Twitter, then tell Ma," she paused, kissed Maura quickly before her departure, unbothered by the audience of cops around. "God. She loved that kid."

Jane's mournful voice rang out as she walked back towards her cruiser, her purpose set. Maura looked around her, Vince Korsak milling about as though nothing had happened, cataloguing evidence and building a timeline, Frankie and Frost looking for anything that could help their case. Life had gone on around them as they shared a small show of public affection - Jane's life had gone on. Even more than that, Jane had initiated, had reached out because she needed it. Needed something to ground her and to comfort her on a day that had started so simply and had ended up in a maelstrom.

Maura prided herself in being that for Jane, once she recovered from the initial shock of the gesture. It made her feel strong. It made her feel needed. She carried that confidence with her through the rest of her inspection, and then in the passenger side of Korsak's unmarked as they rode back to BPD.

* * *

Maura, having never heard of the Channel Street Boys, decided to play a youtube compilation of their most popular music videos while she honored Shane the best way she knew how: an exhaustive autopsy. She did not know him in life, but because he had been important to Jane, he deserved it. She bopped along to _Pure Boston Beauty_ as she finished the perfect baseball stitch of his Y-Incision - Fenway ready and MLB-approved. She made everything about her work on him as distinctly Boston as possible - for him, in love with his own city, and for Jane, in love with it the same.

"I love that song," Jane's husky burr was strained, and she struggled to be heard over the music as she walked into the autopsy suite. She smiled, downcast, when she caught Maura's gaze.

"Sorry!" Maura said when she noticed Jane standing there. "I'd never heard of Channel Street Boys before. They're very good."

"Yeah, Shane was a star, for sure," Jane said wistfully as she looked at Shane's placid face on Maura's table.

"How's your mother?" Maura asked as she removed her gloves and protective eyewear and stepped into Jane's space.

"Bawling," said Jane matter-of-factly. Her hands hung limply at her sides, face looking down at Maura in a plea - as though she were testing something, the reliability of it, or if Maura would come through.

"I'm so sorry," sighed Maura, and then she pulled Jane into a sturdy, warm embrace. Jane crumbled, assured that her gamble had paid off, and let a tiny sob escape when she hugged Maura back.

"Yeah, me too," she said once she had recovered enough to do so. "You know, all I could think about on my way back is that I should let my mother comfort me, that I could fall apart with her because of how close we all were with Shane and his brothers. But I just wanted to be with you. I wanted it to be you."

Maura held her closer, sliding the heel of her hand back and forth between Jane's shoulder blades, somewhat surprised that she knew exactly how the detective wanted to be touched, to be soothed. She let autopilot be the balm to Jane's wide-open wound. "I'd want it to be you, too. It's been you, for me."

"Agh," Jane cleared her throat and sniffed, pulling away from Maura and her moment of vulnerability. They kissed quickly as they parted, and then Jane was ready to work again. "Well, what'd ya find?"

"He has a very pretty face," said Maura, leaning back over him, examining his features in the harsh glow of her ring light. "Teen idols often have these symmetrical features and a distinguished brow."

"Yeah," Jane said, "he was even prettier in life. He was so sweet and soulful. His family, this city, shit on him his whole life, and he still loved Boston with all his heart."

"Just like you," Maura noted, pleased by the way Jane's New England timbre washed over her. She used the forceps in her hand to point to the abrasion on Shane's face. "There are fibers embedded in the shrapnel wounds."

"Maybe from the hoodie?" Jane asked, leaning forward, too.

"I have to-"

"Run some tests, right. Ok." Jane finished for Maura. "His father made him the meal ticket of the family. They went from a cold-water flat to stardom just like that," she snapped her fingers.

"Did Frankie and Shane stay friends?" asked Maura, accepting Jane's oscillation between the personal and the professional.

"No. I mean, Frankie would, ya know, see him whenever the band played in Boston. But I think he knew Shane was into drugs, so…"

"Hmm. Probably a dopamine dysfunction," Maura explained, "it's associated with substance-related disorders, particularly with people who become celebrities as children or teenagers."

Jane shook her head. "And here I thought fame was the drug."

"I think it is. It's the drug that leads to other drugs," said Maura.

Just as Jane was about to offer another smart remark, Susie Chang walked in with a fat file folder in her hands. "Tox screen results are back," she said, handing the folder to Maura. When Maura accepted it, she walked back out.

"Hmm," Maura hummed, surveying the results, confused by them given all the circumstantial evidence around Shane's death.

"What's the 'hmm' for?" Jane said for like _fah,_ so quiet and lax, and Maura felt like she was being shown something sacred all over again. Jane's family had moved to their house in South Boston when she was thirteen, Maura knew that, but until then, their family had lived in a three bedroom apartment on Prince street in the North End and Jane had absorbed every sight, sound, and smell into her DNA.

Maura was compelled to answer by affection alone. "Shane didn't have any drugs in his system," she said.

"Well, that's probably why he was down there buying more crack," Jane snarked.

"No, I had Susie take hair samples. He hasn't had drugs in his system for at least six months, my love. The test is definitive and exhaustive."

"That doesn't make any sense. Then what was he doing down there?"

"That's your purview," Maura answered simply, patting her hand flat against Jane's chest. "I trust you'll figure it out."

* * *

Jane sat at her desk at midday, sweaty and frustrated by the lack of leads. Shane had been dead for nearly twelve hours now, and she was no closer to illuminating what happened to him than when it happened.

Not to mention, she had done a deceptive thing when comforting her mother just moments ago. She had been doing lots of deceptive things to her mother lately, all revolving around Lydia and the child she carried in her belly, and Jane's catholic guilt sat on her shoulders like a barbell she knew she couldn't lift, at least not for long.

Angela had begged her to go to Lydia's shower that evening, told her that Lydia needed the influence of strong women like her and Maura in her life. They had battled back and forth, Angela waxing and Jane waning, until customers in the cafe had complained about the slow service and Angela had shoved her cellphone in Jane's face, saying something about texting Lydia that Jane would be there at the shower.

"The test results came back on those fibers in Shane's facial abrasions, Jane," the Brahmin cadence of Maura Isles' voice broke Jane's worried introspection, however, as she marched toward the bullpen in those black heels and form-hugging gray slacks. "It's denim."

Jane swiveled toward her. "I did a bad thing." she'd worked herself into a frenzy and the new evidence flew right over her head.

Maura stopped short, file in hand, and cocked her head to the side. "What bad thing?"

"C'mere," Jane waved her forward roughly, impatient and guilty. "I may have hijacked Ma's phone and sent a text to Lydia."

"You did what?" Maura raised an eyebrow. She sat on the edge of Jane's desk and scouted for eavesdroppers.

"Well, hijacked is a strong word. But I sent her a text from Ma's phone sayin' we would meet her at the Robber in half an hour."

"We?" Maura asked a little more loudly, starting to comprehend the mess she found herself in. "We as in you and I?"

"No Maura, we as in me and Frost - of course you and I! We're gonna go there and tell her that she cannot, under any circumstances, tell Ma what she did."

"Absolutely not! I can't be a part of this!" Maura gasped. "How did you even get your mother's phone to do this?"

"She handed it to me to finish a text because she was busy - that's not the point. And you are so a part of this! ' _Where is she registered?_ '" Jane imitated in a sultry, crisp accent.

"I was being polite!" Maura argued, her whisper sharp and desperate.

"Well, then you can be 'polite' cop and I'll be 'I'll beat ya face in if ya tell my mother you slept with her husband and her son cop', huh?" Jane said with aggression. Maura actually flinched. "But you're comin' either way."

"I suppose I am," Maura said resignedly, "are we leaving now?"

"We should. I'll drive," Jane said, getting up, leaving her blazer behind and tapping the fingertips of her left hand against the two dimples in Maura's lower back. "I'll pay for lunch."

"Well, I had a delicious spread of kale, quinoa, and yam packed for lunch today, but since you've thrown a wrench in those plans, I suppose it's the least you could do," Maura teased Jane, tugging a scarred hand in her own as they made their way down the elevator and through the main lobby of the building. Jane accepted the affection easily, fingers loosely scooped between Maura's, keys in her other hand jingling.

Maura's test had paid off. Jane was usually as allergic to public displays of affection as she was talking about her feelings or waiting for test results, but this she accommodated willingly. Eagerly, despite the bustle around them. She even held Maura's hand until they reached her unmarked a block away. She let Maura swipe a thumb across her knuckles absentmindedly as she drove, too.

When they parked at the Robber, lucky to find a spot out front, Jane allowed Maura to pull her right hand up to her lips and kiss it, even with its perennial cuts and small calluses, before they stepped out. All she said when Maura set her hand back down was, "let's get a booth. More private."

The Dirty Robber, being an establishment more suited to nighttime and the activities associated with it, was all but empty just after the lunch hour. Jane chose a booth towards the back and only ordered a cup of coffee. Maura, sensing that Jane did not want to spend much time, ordered a sandwich to go and her own mug of tea.

Twenty minutes passed after Lydia said she was going to be there, and Maura congratulated herself internally for ordering a cold sandwich. Jane's leg hummed under the table. "Look at that," she said as she waved her watch in front of her own face, "punctual too."

Maura chuckled softly. Her affection for Jane still roared from their step forward just minutes before and her palm itched without Jane's in it. "Pregnancy brain. A woman's brain cell volume decreases in the third trimester."

"Well, Lydia can't really afford to lose any more brain cells," Jane scoffed. "You know what the scariest part is about Lydia and my father?"

"Imagining them having sex?" Maura shrugged, laughing when Jane gagged.

"No! None of us should be imagining any of us having sex. Ever. Family is off limits. I've just been wracking my brain trying to figure out what it is he saw in her," Jane clarified.

"Well, studies show that many men prefer to date less intelligent women," Maura added.

"But why? I can't imagine dating anyone dumber than me. Actually, I don't think I can date anyone who isn't a genius again."

Maura smiled brightly. "Why is that?"

"Too many perks," Jane said, "you know everything and you keep up with me when my brain is going ten different directions. You know how hard that is to find?"

"Mmm. I could say the same about you. But men are different. You and I, we have our own lives, big jobs, each other. We don't make men our priority, but women like Lydia do. Men like to be prioritized."

"Barf," said Jane. They settled into a few seconds of companionable silence, each other's company welcome in the day full of alternating bouts of sadness and anxiety.

However, it was not to be for much longer, because Lydia walked through the Robber's front door, sweaty and smiling as she waved to Jane, who faced the front of the restaurant. "Sorry I'm late," she huffed, "I ran out of gas on Sudbury Street."

Maura gasped. "You walked?"

"Uh-huh," she barely acknowledged Maura's concern, staring straight at Jane. "Can I sit down? She pointed to the minimal space next to Jane on that side of the booth, already moving for it even though she wouldn't fit, "Oh, my feet are killing me."

Jane didn't budge and Maura sent a glare Lydia's way. "Right here," she said, scooting and patting her seat.

"Ok," Lydia complied. "So, where's your Ma?" she asked Jane.

"Drink some water," Maura ordered before Jane could say something mean or revelatory, "dehydration isn't good for pregnant women."

"Ok." Lydia took the glass offered to her and began scooping out the ice with her hand, putting into the bowl of peanuts on the table. Jane looked at her like she had grown a second head. "Oh, I don't like ice," she explained. "Too cold."

"Yes…" Jane said incredulously, "ice _is_ cold." She glanced at Maura, who just shrugged. "Uh Lydia, listen. Ok, the reason that we wanted to talk to you-"

"I don't know," Lydia interrupted her.

"But we haven't told you yet."

"I don't know who the father is. I mean, isn't that why you wanted to talk to me?" Jane's face dropped open and suddenly Lydia wasn't so sure. "But it's either your father's baby or Tommy's."

"Oh my god," was all that Jane could muster.

"I, I thought you knew!"

"You thought I knew?"

"Well, Jane, you did know," Maura added.

Jane growled. "I did not know. I do not know. How do you not know?" She asked, pointing an accusing finger at Lydia's belly.

"Well, me and Tommy were just havin' fun, hangin' out, and then he introduced me to Frank and I mean… Frank was so nice…" Lydia reminisced, her eyes there but not really as she pictured the past.

"Ok," Jane waved her off, "can you please just get to the part where you know which one… did that."

"Well, that's just it," Lydia cried, "I-I don't know. I have to come clean with Angela."

"No!" both Maura and Jane shouted, and Lydia flinched.

"She's the nicest, best mother ever. That's why I wanted to bump into her," she said.

Maura felt a surge of protective rage at the notion of anyone manipulating Angela, or any of the Rizzolis for that matter. "You meant to rear end her car?" she asked angrily, accusation and contempt not seen since her fight with Jane roaring to the surface. Jane watched, content to let Maura lead this little inquisition.

"Oh no! That part was just an accident," Lydia said, and just like that, all the anger in Maura dissipated. How could she verbally assault someone so stupid? Even if it was someone so stupid who had somehow procured eternal fixation within the Rizzoli family by carrying the baby inside her, in a way that Maura never could. "But Frank said-"

"Please stop calling him Frank," Jane interrupted this time.

"Well your dad said-"

"Go back to Frank, Jesus Christ."

"Um, well, he said that Angela was the best mom. And I want to learn from her," said Lydia resolutely, happily, as though this were some achievable thing.

"Learn what? Frank left her," Jane barked, leaning forward.

Lydia leaned back. "He left me, too," she said in a daze, "When I told him I was pregnant."

"You cannot tell my mother what you did, a'right? You just cannot. Pop's been an asshole to you for the past seven months, but he's been an asshole to her for the past thirty years. So she kind of deserves to sit this one out," Jane said, voice softening with pity for both her mother and Lydia.

Lydia nodded, and then started to cry in earnest. Both Jane and Maura handed her a napkin from the dispenser on the table. "I just, I don't feel that it's right not to tell her," she choked out.

Jane's nose twitched up in righteous anger. "What, now you got a conscience after you whore around with half my family?" She shouted, and most of the other patrons in the bar turned to look at them after hearing the salacious facts of the situation.

" _Baby_ ," Maura admonished, harshly and quickly. Quietly, too, but her stern eyes and clenched teeth were enough to get her point across. Jane scowled at her hand being proverbially slapped, but the new pet name was enough to keep her mouth quiet. "Listen, Lydia," Maura turned to their companion, smiling professionally. "There's nothing wrong with… having multiple sexual partners. There's nothing wrong with getting pregnant by one of those partners. And, there's nothing wrong with deciding what to do with that pregnancy, whatever you decide. But I think what Jane's trying to say is that the fact that your partners are Angela's son and her ex-husband might… complicate things. Complicate feelings."

"You're gonna dredge up a lot of shit for her," Jane boiled it down to its most essential elements. "You could really hurt her."

"Ok," Lydia, with her head down, finally relented. "Ok. I won't tell her."

* * *

Frankie had finally found the gun used to kill Shane at the crime scene and Maura had found blood on the slide, probably from an injury resulting from an improper grip. Jane, however, had nothing to find, nothing to do but wait on DNA from that blood, and so at five o'clock, she decided that she could take a break before some overtime to show her face at Lydia's baby shower.

She weaved lackadaisically through Boston streets in her unmarked, legs wide open to fit in the small cab, left hand tugging at the bottom of the steering wheel in practiced mastery. Shane Finnegan was dead. She let herself think it again, as his one-time friend and not as a cop, and something in her told her she should try to start accepting the unpredictability of life. She should take the good things where she got them and when she got them, because no-one could be sure when it would end or when the bad things were coming. Immediately, she thought of Maura.

Maura's hands on her, Maura's words in her ear, Maura's unyielding loyalty and seemingly endless patience for her. Then, she thought of trading all that in to sleep with a twenty year old she met in a bar. Or some townie that Tommy introduced her to. "Yelck," she vocalized in the empty cabin, shaking her head. The more she tried to understand her father, his choices and his abandonment, the less she did. To be fair, Maura wasn't her wife and they hadn't been together thirty years, but the idea of leaving even what they had built in the last two months or so for a piece of ass with as few brain cells as Lydia made Jane's stomach lurch.

Thinking about it too much, and then thinking back to Shane, made her tired. The kind of tired that made her hands ache and her back curl under the weight of her own shoulders. She remained strong for her mother and for her brothers, but that strength wore thin on days like the one she was having.

When she saw Lydia walking up to the door through Maura's courtyard as she parked, the exhaustion burrowed deeper. She still managed to hustle out of the car, however, and trot over before Lydia could knock. "Lemme open it for ya," she said with a half-smile. She searched in her pocket for her house keys, attached to the fob for her civilian car, and brandished it with a little eyebrow-wag of victory when she found it.

"Maura's lucky to have you guys, Jane," Lydia said seriously. She folded her hands across her belly, leaning into the brick on the side of the house to make herself small. "She's lucky to be a part of your family."

Jane shook her head. "Nah, Lydia. We're lucky to have her. If I had a baby that needed takin' care of, and it wasn't hers, she'd still step up. And my Pop didn't do that for you. So I'm sorry." Lydia nodded vigorously to keep from crying, and Jane pushed the door open. "Now forget about him for a little bit and just have fun at your party, a'right?"

"Jane!" Angela called for her eldest, happy to see her when she stepped into the warm house.

"Hello," she called back, neck stretched as if it were tired from carrying her head. "Look who I found." She pointed backwards to Lydia and bypassed her mother for Maura.

"Hi," Maura greeted her. They kissed hello and she grew warm at the thought that it was becoming their routine. "Your mother made you bacon chocolate."

"Ooh. I will definitely be snacking on that later," Jane said truthfully, but with no smile and her palm supporting her weight against the island.

"You're tired," Maura commented. Of course she noticed. "You should turn in early tonight."

"Not if I don't find out who killed Shane, Maura. I owe him that much," said Jane.

"You owe him your best," Maura countered. "And that never includes sleep deprivation."

"I'll crash when it's over, a'right? Right now I just wanna stuff myself with that cake," Jane pulled Maura to her by the nape of her neck and embraced her, placing several loud kisses against the crown of her hair while she attempted not to stick her fingers knuckle deep into the very expensive-looking cake that her mother had gotten for Lydia.

Maura allowed the touch, let herself be half-hidden against the front of Jane's body as she rubbed deeply at the muscles of its back. "Lydia seems like a mess," she said quietly.

"Now or just in general?" quipped Jane, throwing a glance behind her shoulder to watch Lydia and her mother.

"Ah! You have no idea how much I needed to welcome this baby into the world right now!" Angela shouted happily when Lydia finally stood in front of her. She had a broad smile that Jane could hear in her voice and see in the sway of her hands, but Lydia was not so pleased. The tears she had kept in outside fell wetly and rapidly now. "Honey," Angela said, grabbing Lydia's hands, "what's the matter?"

"My baby won't have a Daddy," Lydia mourned in a whisper.

Angela waved her off and put the back of her hand to one of Lydia's cheeks. "Oh, you're better off without that creep. He dumped you because you're pregnant."

"He dumped me when I told him the baby might be Tommy's," Lydia, still whispering, looked shamefully up at Angela with baleful blue eyes.

Maura and Jane met each other's eyes in fear. They trotted over to the other side of the island, just behind Angela's back, and shook their heads at Lydia. Jane even held a finger up to her lips.

"What? Tommy? Tommy who?" Angela asked, knowing already but needing to hear it.

"Uh… Tommy Rizzoli," Lydia admitted.

At first, Angela was elated. "You're carrying Tommy's baby?" she asked with frantic hope.

"Oh, no," Maura couldn't help but say out loud.

Jane put a hand out to quiet her. "Uh, Ma-"

" _Frank_ dumped me," Lydia said.

And then a quiet hell broke loose. "Frank Rizzoli?" whispered Angela, "Frank Rizzoli my _husband?_ "

"Oh god." Jane gulped. "Ma-"

"Did you know?" Angela asked, withering her with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"Just let me explain," Jane pleaded.

"Explain what? That you lied to me?"

"We simply avoided referencing a specific set of facts," Maura stepped in to explain.

Angela was crushed. She was crying now, alongside Lydia. "You knew, too?" She expected Jane to deceive her, at least in this way, because she had been doing it her whole life - telling her mother half-lies to keep her from feeling pain. But Maura, Maura was honest, Maura was true. For her to hide something from Angela hurt. "That was my husband," Angela said to Lydia then, "he was the father of my children. And you come into my house, into my _family,_ and you ask me for my help… after all you've done?"

Jane started to cry, too. The desperation in her raspy voice was so foreign to everyone in the room. "Ma, listen. Please, Ma. Listen to me, ok? Dad did a terrible thing. I just, I didn't know how to tell you. I'm so sorry." She begged her mother to see her, to accept her apology, with her eyes alone. Her handsome Italian face was distorted with guilt and shame and a number of other catholic emotions.

Her mother ignored them all. "I - I was Mrs. Rizzoli for 38 years. I was Frank's wife, and… and now? Now I'm not anybody anymore. Not even to my own kids," Angela said, and then she turned on her heels towards the guesthouse.

"No, Ma c'mon," Jane reached out for Angela. Her fingers ached to touch her arm, her shoulders, anything.

But Angela was broken. Only anger spilled out of her. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, voice watery and despondent.

"Ma! Ma!" Jane shouted, jogging after her until the door slammed in her face. "Please!"


	20. Chapter 20

"This where your mother lives?" Jane barked at Lydia, who was in the backseat of her unmarked. They pulled up to a dilapidated duplex in South Boston just as a disheveled woman in a robe and pajamas, at 5:45 PM, stumbled down the front steps.

"Yeah," Lydia answered.

"Great. Let's get your stuff out of the car," Jane tossed her sunglasses into the center console and exited the cab with a voracious door slam. Maura followed her quietly from the passenger side, and Lydia was the last to leave.

"I'm sorry if I caused any trouble, Jane," she said, standing at the trunk of the car.

" _If_ you caused any trouble?" said Jane, facing Lydia fully now, shoulders forward and firearm fully exposed.

"I had no idea how roomy this cargo area is, did you, Jane?" Maura yanked Jane's hand, hard, but the taller woman's feet did not budge. Sometimes she forgot just how strong Jane was.

"Yeah, the backseat's really comfortable, too," Lydia, anxious to smooth over the last hour or so, latched on to Maura's redirection.

"Don't, Maura," Jane ordered behind gritted teeth. She pointed to Lydia. "You gave me your word, Lydia. And despite all the recent shit with my father, that means somethin' in this family. You wanna be a part of it? Then start actin' like you give a fuck about us." Lydia's silent tears started again, and Jane sighed. "So, uh, where the hell you want all these gifts?" she asked as she popped her trunk.

Lydia just shrugged, and Maura put a hand on her arm. "Do you have the baby's room set up?"

"Lydia? Is that you?" The woman on the porch asked, squinting.

"Yeah, hi, Mom," Lydia replied, wiping her eyes, putting on a fake smile.

"What are you doin' here? I rented out your room." The woman ran a hand through her short, dyed blonde hair.

"Can I have it back?"

"You're gonna have to share it with Jed," the woman said finally, turning around to go back into the house.

"Ok," Lydia called after her, "who's Jed?"

"No wonder she preferred my mother," Jane snarked to Maura. She grabbed an array of bags and toys and set them off to the side of the driveway.

"Oh, Jane," Maura whined, heart broken. She put her hand on Jane's forearm and looked up at her with sad eyes.

"Oh what, Maura? Huh? What're you gonna do? You gonna go share your room with Lydia and Jed? Dump on my mother some more?" She interrogated, finger now pointed squarely at Maura, who continued to pout. "No. Lydia's made her grown up choices. And I gotta go. Frost and Korsak are talking to a suspect and I need to be there." She started to throw all the baby items to the ground.

"Ok, ok, stop throwing it! I got it, I got it," Maura hurried after Jane's tossing arms, stopping them and then placing the rest of Lydia's many gifts on the ground.

She barely was able to settle back into her seat when Jane revved the engine and peeled back out onto the street.

* * *

Shane's deadbeat father, Ryan Finnegan, who extorted his boys for money and perks after they had become famous, was out of prison and nowhere to be found, but Maura had just walked into the bullpen with the results of the DNA on the gun. "Belongs to a white male," she said when she handed Jane the file.

"So that means Ryan Finnegan still looks good for this," said Frost. He looked just as tired as Jane in his desk chair. He crossed his muscular arms, and Jane, who stood near her own desk, barely able to stay upright as the sun went down, nodded at this assertion.

"Motive could be revenge. The boys put him behind bars," she continued.

"Then why not go after all three of them?" Korsak asked from behind his own desk to play devil's advocate.

Jane shrugged. "Shane _was_ that band. Ryan put all the pressure on him, but how the hell are we gonna find him?" She bit her finger in thought.

"Even if he was on skid row somewhere, he has to collect his social security," Korsak said.

"I tried that," Jane replied, "he listed a PO box."

"Yeah, but there's a cellphone number," Frost said, swinging his monitor around for them to see. "The billing address is the same PO box."

"Well, maybe you can call Mr. Finnegan. Ask him to come down to the police station," Maura suggested. She moved closer to Jane and studied the idea board just a few feet away.

"Oh good idea, Maura. 'Hey Mr. Finnegan, we think you murdered your son - can you just come on down here and tell us how you did it?'" Jane said in a faux-feminine lilt against the screen of her iPhone.

Maura furrowed her brow. "Does it make you feel better to mock me?"

Jane deflated immediately. "Kind of," she said. When Maura frowned, she revised. "I'm sorry - I'm frustrated," she pouted, bouncing on her heels in barely bridled emotion.

"It's ok," Maura smiled then, shaking her head to banish Jane's guilt.

"You know, actually, that's not an awful idea, now that I think about it," Jane said with her hands on her hips.

"It's not?" asked Maura and Frost together.

"No. Just gotta spruce it up a bit. I'll call him in on a lottery tip. He can think he's got a big check to pick up at the PO box."

Frost, Maura, and Korsak all shared impressed glances as Jane dialed his number.

* * *

Three hours later, Jane waited for the DNA comparison test results from the crime lab. Ryan Finnegan had been arrested and swabbed, had fallen for her ruse, and now they played the waiting game. She had solidified leads and tracked down all she could on the alcoholic father of The Channel Street Boys, and now she depended on Maura and Susie to lock it down.

And to top it all off, she was _hungry_. The cafe closed at 7, and even if she hadn't been two hours late, she couldn't ask her mother to serve her. Not after what she and Maura had done. She, quite naturally, really craved her mother's cooking in the moment, however, so she hatched a plan. And currently, Frankie was in the dark cafe scoring her a sandwich from Angela, who was closing up.

When he rounded the corner to find where she had been hiding, she snatched his sleeve. "How's she doing?"

"Not good," Frankie said severely. "Take it before she comes back from the bathroom."

"Thanks," Jane said as she accepted the food. "Hey listen, don't tell her that you knew about Lydia."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "You can't take all the heat."

"Yes I can," Jane assured him. "Just take care of her, a'right? We really hurt her."

Frankie watched Jane, how she stood before him a little stooped and broken by their mother's rejection. And yet, in the face of it, she shielded him from the brunt of it. "Hey, you're a really good person."

"No, I'm not. I lied to her, Frankie. I lied to her like Dad did."

"You were trying to protect her."

"You should have seen her face. She was devastated," Jane hung her head.

Frankie sighed. They both cursed the timing of this family shit storm as they tried to solve the murder of their friend. "Janie, did Mr. Finnegan do it?"

"I don't know, bud," Jane answered honestly. "Maura's still workin' on those results for me."

Angela, as if she sensed her children nearby, rounded the corner, too. "Frankie? Where did you go?" she asked, wiping her hand on a dish towel, "Oh."

"Hey Ma," Jane greeted her. Her normally deep and resonant voice was small and demure.

"Hi Jane," Angela answered and then turned away as quickly as she came.

"Told you," Jane said to her brother. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's just lashing out because she's embarrassed and mad," said Frankie.

"With good reason," Jane said, downcast until the elevator doors pinged open and black heels clacked down the hall of the empty lobby. Frankie turned to see the reason for the smile on his sister's tired face, nodded to Maura when he saw her.

"Hey, Maura," he said to her, kissing her cheek as he walked away.

"Hi, Frankie," she replied, accepting the gesture.

Jane waved her over. "We suck, Maura," she said, nodding her head in the direction of Angela's silhouette in the window of the cafe.

"I know," Maura commiserated. "But listen. The blood comparison tests came back. The blood in the gun slide isn't Ryan Finnegan's."

When she looked as if she were going to say more, Jane prodded her. "But?"

"But I found variable tandem repeats in the DNA test. The blood on the gun is similar, but has a different mitochondrial DNA."

"So it's a familial match? That means it's one of Shane's fucking brothers," Jane growled, handing Maura her uneaten sandwich, still in its plastic box. She jogged back toward the elevators to let Frost know what she had just found out.

"Wait, you're not hungry?" Maura tried lamely, knowing that Jane probably wouldn't eat until they were home.

"I gotta bring those bastards in first," Jane answered as the elevator doors covered her face from view.

* * *

"Shane wanted to leave the band," Jane, finally home and leaning over the counter of Maura's kitchen island, explained the Finnegan brothers' motives for the first time. "He and his girlfriend wanted to focus on humanitarian work, and he carried The Channel Street Boys. If he left, they could kiss their revenue goodbye. But if he died, their sales would skyrocket. It was all about the money."

"That's awful," said Maura. She readied her bedtime tea in a mug just after eleven PM, grateful for the Sunday to come, but still hurting while she watched Jane process the reality of her childhood friends as murderers of their own brother.

To Jane, it must have been unfathomable to kill one's brother. Jane loved her brothers, would die for them. Jane would die for any of her family members, even her father. Maura started to think maybe she was learning what that felt like, because she knew she would die for Jane, if the situation called for it. But the trauma of poverty, of parental abuse, and of fame must have distorted the Finnegan family dynamic until it was ugly enough for murder.

"Yeah, awful. Their family's falling apart because they had a deadbeat dad and they were at each other's throats, and now my family's doin' the same. You got _anything_ in the fridge that has fat in it?" Jane grimaced, hoping against hope.

"I have some yummy, honey-smoked tempeh bacon in there," Maura teased as she licked her stirring spoon. When Jane whined, she melted. "Come here," she beckoned.

Jane quite literally fell into the embrace. "No. I want something that'll clog my arteries." Her words were muffled by the shoulder of Maura's blazer.

"Your family isn't falling apart," Maura whispered against Jane's hair. "This is a bump in the road. Your mother is far too loyal and far too kind to disown you." She relished the feel of Jane gripping her tight in thanks.

Just as Jane's eyes began to droop closed, they both jumped at the sound of the back door flying open. Frankie, in civilian clothes and a clear mix of anger and hurt, stormed into the kitchen.

Jane let go of Maura and walked towards him. "What, uh, what're you doin' here?" she asked, wiping her palms on her pants and clearing uncried tears from her throat.

"She wants me to help her move, Jane," Frankie griped. He pointed towards their mother's guesthouse. "She's been tryin' to convince me since we got off."

"What?" asked Jane, peeking her head around the corner of the open door.

"I'm gonna go move in with my cousin, Theresa," Angela appeared then, stepping into Maura's dining area. She pushed up the sleeves of her blue button up, nodding with finality.

"Angela, please don't," Maura pleaded, careful not to step too far forward into the Rizzoli orbit, but desperate to keep her. Suddenly the prospect of their family flying apart didn't seem so farfetched if Angela moved away, and her stomach clenched when she imagined her big Beacon Hill house empty of everyone but herself.

Frankie stepped in between his sister and his mother. "I knew about Lydia, too, Ma."

Angela scoffed. "I know. You and Jane always shared everything, and I… I understand that you all were trying to protect me," she said as she looked at Jane, Frankie, and Maura. "But-"

"Ma," Jane gently pushed Frankie aside as they warred for the brunt of Angela's ire. "Ma, I'm _so_ sorry."

Angela shook her head. "But can't you understand that I can't have my children think I'm pitiful?" she continued.

"Ma," Jane tried again, " _Dad_ is the one who's pitiful. You didn't do anything wrong. We did," she said, "Dad did. Ok? We… we all admire you. Don't you get that?"

"Admire me?" Angela chuckled in self-doubt, "For what. I lost my marriage, I lost my house, I live in your girlfriend's guest house. I-I work in a cafe making a little more than minimum wage-" and in the middle of her tirade, Jane put one of those long, strong hands on her shoulder and squeezed. It was enough to wrack her with sobs.

"I admire you because you picked yourself up when you could have just laid on the floor," Jane said fiercely, moving even closer when Angela buried her head in her arm to hide her crying. "No, Ma, I admire you for the person that you've always been. You're optimistic and warm and loving and strong. You're so strong, ok? You're an example to all of us. A good parent when Pop isn't."

"Hey hey hey," Frankie whispered, going to his mother, too, his meaty palm on her other shoulder, "she's right, ok? Of course we admire you, Ma. We could never pay back what you've given us, the life you've given us."

Maura had stayed quiet during their exchange because she wasn't sure if she would make things worse. But, as she watched Jane, and Frankie, a man who was practically her brother, collect the pieces of the woman who had been more of a mother to her than both of hers combined, she knew she couldn't remain idle any longer. She let a few of her own tears fall unabashedly against the tissue box that she carried their way. "I always wanted a mother like you," she told Angela, holding the tissues out to her. "Your children are my favorite people on this planet, all because of you."

"Oh, Maura," Angela cried openly, sighing and taking a few tissues. She collected herself and spared a glance at each one of them. "Ugh, you're great kids, you know that? Taking care of me even when you're lying."

"Because of you, Ma, just like Maura said. 'Cause of you." Jane slid her hand from her mother's shoulder to her fingers.

"I never really liked Theresa anyway," said Angela. "She doesn't clean her bathrooms." All four of them laughed until it hurt then, each thankful for the relief that the return of Angela's good mood brought. She pulled all three to her, close enough that they were all tangled up in an embrace. "I love you so much," she said as she kissed Maura, then Jane, then Frankie, his burly arms pulling them ever closer into each other.

"Alright," called Jane's smashed voice, "Ok. The group hugging, I can't do it."

Angela laughed again, letting them go, but then pointing between Jane and Maura. "You two can hug each other, you can spare a few seconds to hug your mother. Now, what are we gonna do about this Lydia situation?"

"She doesn't wanna do a paternity test," said Frankie.

Three sets of eyes trained on him. "How do ya know that, huh?" Jane, the ballsiest of them, asked.

"I took Lydia lunch during her shift today. Wanted to see what she knew," he answered honestly.

" _That's_ why she thought I knew today! She had just come from seein' you!"

"Yeah well, didn't do any good because she told me it doesn't matter who the father is," he continued, "which I told her was bullshit, of course."

"That girl really is something else, coming here, trying to wedge her way into our family like that. I don't care whose baby it is - she's going to have to act right if she wants any of us to be a part of their lives," Angela said resolutely.

"Sounds good to me," Jane shrugged, ready to ice Lydia out for good and return to normal life, as normal as life in the Rizzoli family could be.

Maura wouldn't let that happen, however. "I'm willing to provide paternity testing to her free of charge, of course," she said. "Whether this baby is your sibling or your brother's child, I think we need to be there for them. You saw the… disarray Lydia just went back to, Jane."

Angela folded her arms across her chest. "Maura's right," she admitted, "but we need serious ground rules."

Jane leaned back against the counter. "Well maybe we can start by not letting her in the guest house."

"What did you want me to do, Jane? I didn't know that she was playing me. She was alone and homeless, so I let her sleep on the couch a couple of nights," Angela said.

"Even so, she can't stay here. She's gotta figure her shit out. We're not gonna do it for her. Tommy can, or Pop can, whoever knocked her up, but we shouldn't be pickin' up their messes anymore," Frankie said sternly.

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "And none of us go seekin' her out, a'right? She wants our help, let her come back, ready with an apology. Otherwise it's not happenin'."

"Ok, but you kids have to help me be strong when she comes around," said Angela, knowing herself, "because you all know I'm a sucker for a sob story."

"We know," her children whined in unison. They all chuckled again, and now that they had at least the outline of a plan to guide them, the tension in the room had begun to ease again.

"Ok, Rizzolis," Frankie said first, "it's been a whale of a day. I'm beat. Call me in the morning if you need anything," he implored them, kissing his mother and then his sister and then Maura before he headed toward the door.

"Yeah, bye brother," Jane waved him off. When Angela hugged her tight, she bid her farewell, too. "Bye, Ma. See you in the mornin'."

"Are you stayin' here tonight?" Angela asked.

"Yup, too tired to drive home."

"Good. I'll make you breakfast." It was an olive branch, and Jane accepted it with a weary smile.

* * *

Maura watched Jane grip the handrail tight with each labored step up the staircase to the main bedroom above. She studied Jane's legs, stomping to accommodate an uneven gait and aging spine, and yet, what was even more burdensome was the emotional beating Jane had been through today.

Her childhood friend had died, and her mother had taken an arrow to the back regarding Lydia, an arrow partially placed there by Jane and Maura themselves. It hurt Jane to lie to her mother, it hurt Jane to get caught lying, but it also hurt Jane to have to contend with the sins of her father, the bow that loosed the arrow in the first place. Each time Jane saw Lydia, it reminded her of those sins - so commonplace and yet still so mortal to the family-loving, family-loyal Rizzoli siblings.

When Jane sat on the edge of the bed, looking dejectedly at her boots and slumping her back, Maura again contended with the way she almost lost all of those Rizzoli siblings tonight. It filled her with longing. Her body hummed when she sat next to Jane, her hand on Jane's thigh. Jane's eyes, as they met her own, slipped closed. Jane leaned forward, asking silently for the kiss that she knew awaited her. Maura gave it freely, and soon one short smack for comfort converted into minutes of wet, fleshy exploration.

"Are you too tired to-" Maura started to ask.

Jane interrupted her. "No. Whatever the end of that question was, no. I'm not."

"Are you sure?" Maura pressed, kissing the swollen and dark nasojugal folds under Jane's eyelids to emphasize her doubt.

"Maura," Jane glowered, "you can't ask that after a makeout session. It's not fair. Of course I'm sure."

Maura nodded, her lower lip between her teeth. "Alright," she acquiesced. "Then sit in the chair for me?" She pointed toward the sitting chair in the corner of the room, the one they hadn't used since their first night together, the one with a tall back and low arms, perfect for crawling into.

Jane nodded, her lips a flat and retracted line, as Maura disappeared into the bathroom. She got up, undid her belt before anything else, pulling her button-up out of its tuck before completely disrobing and sitting down.

When Maura reentered in her black satin robe and nothing else, seeing Jane there, comfortable enough to lean her chin on her fist in thought, she smiled widely. "It was sweet of you to get naked, but I wanted you to keep this," Maura said to Jane, picking up her black button up on a curled index finger.

Jane, blinking herself back to reality, shrugged. She put her arms back through her shirt, and was immediately rewarded with Maura in her lap. "For ease of access," explained Maura, taking the small bottle of lubricant she had retrieved from her bathroom vanity and dropping it into Jane's breast pocket.

"Where are we putting that, huh?" Jane asked, grinning wickedly, sitting up at attention, wrapping her arm around Maura's back. She slid that hand lower, bunching up satin as she went, cupping when she found warm skin, pushing her middle finger into wet heat from behind.

Maura lurched forward and hissed. "Down there," she answered with a whisper in Jane's ear. She moved her right hand from Jane's shoulder and reached behind herself to pull Jane's hand toward the space between them.

Jane moaned when Maura sucked on her middle finger all the way down to the knuckle. "Ok," she complied dumbly.

Maura released Jane with a pop, and then chuckled deeply. "Open your hand for me," she commanded. Jane turned her palm up near their faces, breathing heavily. Maura took the bottle back out of Jane's pocket, turning it in her own hands slowly, warming its contents, before squeezing a small puddle into the middle of Jane's left scar. She rubbed it generously over Jane's fingers, her palm, her knuckles, while Jane watched her with pupils dilated enough to cover most of her irises. "Now do what you do, my love," Maura encouraged, glancing down to where their hips met.

Jane spent the next two or three minutes moving her fingers against Maura, and using her other hand to hold Maura's neck so that their foreheads stayed together. "We could have done this together, you know," she said, keeping her mouth open to swallow every whine Maura unleashed against her lips.

"I know," Maura croaked, "that was my intention, but then I got distracted." Soon enough, her own hand was between them, finding Jane where she needed to be found. "You have a… _oh_ … a habit of doing that."

"Distracting you?" Jane huffed.

"Dismantling me," Maura cried out sharply, "and you just did that on purpose."

"What did I do on purpose?" Jane goaded, making her strokes longer and harder.

"Two can play, Jane," was all that Maura said in reply. She attempted a finger-twist meant to stun, but Jane snatched her wrist.

"I'll get mine in a second," said Jane, resisting, "slow it down. Slower."

Maura bit her lower lip again, nodding helplessly, groaning when Jane slowed in kind and then stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Ride it out," Jane asked of her. It was an imperative, like so many of the statements Jane and Maura made to each other in bed. The slight lilt of Jane's words, the kindness in it, was persuasive, and Maura realized why when the erotic winding of her hips brought her newfound control.

Jane wouldn't let her look away, either. They kissed with their eyes open, they embraced with their eyes open, they fucked with their eyes open. Maura looked into those eyes that had been a comfort to her since she first met Jane, and in them she saw all of the events that had transpired between them the last two months, the last five years - the friendship, the trust, the anger and the intimacy rocked her until she couldn't take it anymore. She pulled Jane against her, one arm around her shoulders, the other against her back, taking Jane's head in her palm as she sucked softly against the side of her face. "Move in with me," she pleaded as she came, her breath hot against Jane's ear.

Jane froze for the quickest of seconds, stiffened in Maura's arms. "What?" she asked.

Maura's hammering heart seized when she felt Jane go rigid. Before she said anything else, she needed to see Jane looking back at her again. When she pulled back to see not only Jane's soft crow's feet, but her cocky half-smile, she smiled back. "Move in with me."

"That's bold of you to ask before you finish the job," Jane flexed her index finger theatrically below.

"Tell me your answer or I won't," Maura murmured against the bridge of Jane's nose, relishing the way Jane kneaded her waist after pulling her robe completely open. She wouldn't hold out for long, she knew, but the play was fun when Jane asked her to continue in every way except with words.

"I…" Jane managed before a sharp intake of breath, Maura's fingers already back between her legs. They resumed their grinding, the fronts of their bodies sliding together in sweat as they moved. Jane, enamored by the fall of Maura's hair, by the twitch in her cheek as she exerted herself, decided to take the good thing hurtling towards her. "I already practically live here," she said as she made sure to look Maura fully in her face, "I guess we could make it official."


	21. Chapter 21

Jane suppressed a jitter as she stomped into the Division One Cafe, flanked by Korsak and Frost, all of them earlier than usual. Quite a bit earlier. She had been so early, in fact, that now she had to roll her shoulder to adjust the twist in her undershirt from getting dressed in the dark. With a final retuck of her blue t-shirt to make everything at least _appear_ more put together, she turned the corner to see her mother chopping herbs and putting them into a bowl. "Ok, I'm dyin' to know why Cavanaugh brought us all in early," she grumbled.

"Me too," Frost said, looking decidedly sharper than her in his suit and pressed shirt, "can't be good news, right?"

"Maybe Angelina Jolie is playing a homicide cop and wants to do a ride-along," Korsak quipped as they made their way to the coffee station.

"Yeah, we can only hope," Jane snarked, intent to start off the day in a shitty mood, until she saw Maura with a mug of tea in her hands and a bright smile on her face. "Hey," she said in the voice only Maura got to hear, and touched her forearm gently.

"Hi," Maura continued to smile as she joined them, "and don't think that I didn't hear the Angelina Jolie comment. Is that why you stayed at your place last night?"

"To sleep with Angelina Jolie?" teased Jane, "no. Not my type." She snatched a coffee cup from just behind the carafes on the counter, and hissed when no coffee came out as she pushed down on the lever. "No coffee? What the hell?"

Maura stifled a laugh at Jane's strangled whine. "Try some green tea," she offered, "only fifteen milligrams of caffeine."

Jane peeked over the lip of Maura's mug in disdain. Angela appeared beside her, a bowl full of what she had been chopping just moments before. "Anybody want fresh mint for their tea?"

"Oh excellent, thank you," Maura replied, taking the tongs off of Angela's bowl and dropping several mint leaves into her hot beverage.

Jane snapped. "No, we want caffeine," she barked at her mother, holding her empty cup out expectantly.

"I'm not allowed to serve coffee today," said Angela.

"Said who?" Jane needed to know so that she could murder them herself.

"Him," was all that Angela had in response. She let her eyes rake over the broad shoulders of Lieutenant Cavanaugh as he strolled into the cafe with several uniforms at his back. He nodded to Angela with a crooked half-smile.

"Morning," he said, as brightly as a middle-aged man from South Boston could, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I asked you in early today."

"Actually, we were wondering where the coffee is, sir," Jane answered, only containing the stamp of her foot because she was talking to her boss.

"I'm glad you asked," Cavanaugh smirked as he talked. "Cause the homicide squad is taking part in the citywide 'week of health' initiative."

Maura raised her hand immediately as if they were all back in school and Jane blushed for her. "Are you raising your hand?" Jane asked under her breath. Maura ignored her.

"Dr. Isles?" Cavanaugh called.

"I'm happy to do whatever I can to support this program. It has tremendous benefits. I know one of the physicians on the committee," said Maura. "All of our personnel could stand to learn something."

"And why is that?" Cavanaugh said, taking his cue from her. "Is it because seventy percent of all medical costs are related to smoking, physical inactivity, poor food choices, and stress?"

A growing number of annoyed cops looked on as he and Maura volleyed back and forth. "Well, yes. Which leads to higher-than-average mortality rates for cancer, suicide, and heart disease."

"Maybe because somebody took their coffee away," Jane grumbled, and Maura only shook her head while the other officers and detectives laughed.

"On average, police officers only live two to five years after retiring," she said, making eye contact with several others in the room, who gasped. "And," she turned only to Jane now, "I won't have you dying just short of sixty. Looking for a new mate that late in life would not be ideal."

Jane smiled at Maura's playful glare, basking in the implication of her assertion.

"And I'm not standing by and letting my people drop dead," Cavanaugh said sternly.

"Well what do we do?" Frost asked, all but convinced.

"I'd like to ask Mrs. Rizzoli and Detective Rizzoli to join Dr. Isles as our Wellness Captains for this week," their boss replied.

The looks on Maura's and Angela's faces were joyful, but the one on Jane's was sour. "What?" she scoffed.

Korsak smiled wickedly in her direction. "How about a nice, big round of applause for our new Wellness Captains?" he said to the rest of the room, and while Maura and Angela clapped along with everyone else, Jane glowered at him. Frost and Cavanaugh stifled laughter.

"Ok so listen up: Mrs. Rizzoli will provide meals, Dr. Isles will guide us in meditation, and Detective Rizzoli will lead us in physical activity breaks."

"A PE teacher, really?" Jane groaned. She turned to her mother. "Why didn't you give me a heads up? I could have stopped at Boston Joe's!"

"Oh, this aggressive behavior proves you're a caffeine addict," Angela said seriously.

Jane felt her muscles twitching of their own volition. She nearly crushed the empty cup in her hands.

Maura touched her forearm, rubbing with a thumb. "Well, let's just take a moment and celebrate the fact that the Lieutenant wants us to be Captains."

"He wants us to be hall monitors, Maura," said Jane.

With her bubble sufficiently burst, Maura frowned for the first time that morning. "Oh."

Just then, all of their phones buzzed with an incoming text from dispatch. "Ok, we gotta go. We got a high profile suicide," said Frost.

"Great!" Jane said just a little too enthusiastically, "Come on, we can stop and get some coffee."

* * *

Maura stood at the shoulder of the body of Ethan Slater, the suspicious death that they had been called to investigate. He apparently had written one of the best selling books of the decade so far, a memoir about his own mental illness and struggles with addiction called _Suicide Boy_. Even she, the empiricist that she was, thought that the irony of him hanging himself after the success of the book was too perfect, even for a writer - something just wasn't right about his injuries. "There's a sticky substance alongside the ligature marks on his neck. I'll have trace run tests."

Jane, her conversational partner and very fidgety lover, bounced across from her, deep in thought. "Ok thanks. Any news on the BAC?"

"Not yet," Maura answered. "I thought you stopped for coffee," she said as she catalogued all the ways Jane's body threatened to unravel. The dark circles just under Jane's eyes tugged at her heart.

"Line was too long. Go figure. And now I'm back in coffee jail for the foreseeable future," Jane pouted.

Maura smiled despite herself. She loved the handsome way Jane made even her displeasures known. It involved so much corporeal grace, barely bridled physical passion, and it drew Maura out. However, as she got lost in the image of Jane, her phone chimed and then her own voice filled the autopsy suite. _It's time for your five minute meditation_ , said the recording.

Jane actually recoiled. "Turn _that_ off, please."

Maura shook her head and chuckled. "Meditating lowers stress. It improves focus." She waited for Jane to head toward the office so that they could begin. When it became clear that Jane had no intention of meditating, she altered tactics. "I don't want to have to report you."

Jane gasped. "Report me? _You_ are gonna report me? I thought we were closer than that."

"Well I have to. Lieutenant Cavanaugh insisted," Maura said with a shrug of her slender shoulders.

"Ok," Jane said, crossing the table to stand next to Maura, "Fifty push-ups." Maura looked terrified. "Now, babe. I don't want to be forced to report _you_."

"It's hardly fair if I'm the only one doing the physical activity," Maura murmured, switching things up again. She put her chart down and took Jane's hand. She relished how warm it felt. "Tell you what. You meditate with me, and I will brew you a giant mug of organic black coffee. I have that bag of Subtle Earth beans in my office. It'll be your reward, and no one will have to know."

"You would let me break the Wellness rules?" Jane asked suspiciously.

"Technically, no," Maura sighed. "Organic coffee is one of the best forms of energy enhancement, as long as there isn't any dairy or syrup in it."

"That sounds like heaven," Jane finally nodded. "It sounds worth the torture of meditation."

It was not to be realized, however, because Susie Chang burst into the suite at that moment, carrying a hefty file folder. "The victim's blood alcohol level results are back," she said.

Jane's eyes lit up with a different kind of energy. "Excellent."

Susie handed Maura the file and made her exit just as swiftly as she came. "He was pretty intoxicated," said Maura. "Point one eight."

Jane winced. "Poor guy was out of it when he killed himself."

"I'm not so sure he killed himself, Jane. Fractures indicate asphyxiation, not forceful hyperextension due to hanging."

"So… strangled, then hanged."

"I'd say that's a fair conclusion, yes."

"Ok. I gotta let the guys know. Thanks Maura. For the info and the offer of contraband coffee, even if I can't take you up on it," Jane's grin was sincere, and her hands on her belt very becoming, Maura thought.

"I'm sorry I can't make you some. But you should come by tonight. Let me teach you how to meditate the right way. I promise you'll feel better when you do it," she pleaded. "You really should try to mitigate the stress in your life somehow."

Jane pretended to really weigh her options. "A'right. If dinner's part of the bargain, I'll do it. Last night I ate three scoops of peanut butter."

Maura laughed. "See why you should move in? At least you would eat something resembling a meal every night if you lived with me."

Jane blushed. "I said I would. Things have just been crazy here and with Lydia that I haven't really had time to pack. Or tell anyone."

"If you let me call movers, this would be over already."

"No, I can box and move my own stuff, Maura. Movers are a waste of money, especially when there are three able-bodied Rizzoli siblings available to do the work."

"We're not going to talk about how I don't think you're as able-bodied as you say you are," Maura retorted. When Jane went to counter, she held up her finger. "Go give this information to your partners. I will see you tonight."

* * *

Jane shocked herself on her lunch hour, swiveling in her desk chair and absentmindedly popping beet chips into her mouth. They tasted like ass, but her mother refused to make anything for lunch but vegan quinoa wraps so… at least she didn't have to go downstairs to eat the chips.

Frost sat across from her, valiantly attempting his own wrap, chewing around the lettuce and grainy quinoa. Frankie grimaced in the chair next to Jane as he pulled from a bottle of fresh-pressed green juice. Korsak flouted his seniority in front of all of them by eating his favorite turkey on rye from the deli down the street.

"Yuck, ugh," Frankie groaned, "have you tried this shit? It tastes like sweat and rotten celery." He screwed the bottle back on the cap with malice.

"Stop drinking it," Frost said, "and stop drinkin' your own sweat, too. Here," he pulled out two bottles of gatorade from his desk drawer and handed one to Frankie.

"Oh, hey, with the sugary drinks?" Jane whipped her feet off their perch on her desk and tried to snatch the bottle from her partner's hand, but he was too quick. "I already told Ma about the contraband donut this morning."

Frost feigned betrayal. "You wellness snitch," he gasped.

Frankie laughed and took a big swig of his gatorade. "So listen. Somethin's goin' on with Ma."

"Is that why you're here? Maybe she ate too many chia seeds," Jane joked as she crossed her arms.

"Ha ha," he snarked. "Janie, she's growin' herbs."

Jane shook her head. "Uh oh. Did you spot cannabis between the basil and the rosemary?"

Frankie socked her arm. "She hasn't gardened since Pop left. You know this."

"Oh no, I hope she's not enjoying her life again," Jane said sarcastically.

"Ok, look. She's suddenly interested in lip balm, and she asked me if the pants she was wearing made her look fat," Frankie said, rolling his eyes at his sister.

Jane leaned forward. "Well shit. That is bad. No, that's a bad sign."

"I told you," said Frankie, vindicated.

"Do you still think it's her and Cavanaugh?" asked Jane, peering dramatically around the corner to make sure their boss was nowhere in sight.

Frankie did the same. "I don't know. They haven't been as chatty around Ma's work, but Cavanaugh's been burnin' the midnight oil with that thing from the Governor's office goin' down, so maybe they just haven't had the chance."

"God, gross," Jane said. "How do we find out?"

"You could just ask her," Frost said. He looked at them as if this were the most obvious course of action.

"You're not gonna get any answers that way," Korsak finally popped in. "Sean is notoriously hush hush about his love life. He's probably had your mother sign an NDA if they are together," he chuckled.

"Christ," Jane and Frankie said, heads thrown back in stress.

"You're both lookin' a little tense," Frost said, beaming, "maybe you should try some meditation."

"Shut up, Frost," said Jane, tossing a pencil at his head.

* * *

That evening, inside of Maura's admittedly very zen bedroom, incense burned forgotten, and yoga mats lay undisturbed on the floor. The robes she had put out for she and Jane to wear during their introduction to meditation had fluttered to the bench at the foot of the bed, and instead of quiet, regulated breaths, or restful chants, her and Jane's twin panting filled the space. Things had gone very _un_ according to plan, but Maura couldn't be bothered with frustration as her body slacked with recent release and she put her hand on the side of Jane's face, which was puffing ragged breaths against her sternum.

"I don't know how meditating turned into you coming inside me," Maura laughed as Jane tried to slow her own lungs.

"'M sorry," mumbled Jane, and Maura could feel the teeth of her smile against her chest.

"Don't be, Wellness Coach," she teased. "I got mine, you got yours. I'd say it was a very successful session."

Jane, having brought enough oxygen back to her bloodstream to act, resumed her wet trail of kisses along Maura's chin, jawline, neck. "Well then, if that's the case... meditatin', baby-makin', I'm not really seein' a difference."

Maura was ignited by the featherlight strokes inside of her when Jane slipped in again, and she writhed in time to them, slow and rhythmic with her hands on Jane's behind to keep her close. "Mmm," she half-moaned, half-replied, "are you saying you want to make a baby with me?"

Jane blushed and latched onto an earlobe with her teeth. She used her hips to brush up against Maura's favorite spot so that she wouldn't have to answer _that_ question. "It's a figure of speech. Did you hear that? Outside?" She tried a verbal distraction as well, biting back a moan of her own, when Maura pulled her legs forward, knees now near Jane's shoulders, opening up everything so much deeper. The sound of them together changed, got louder, and thrusts became more intentional when Jane heard it.

"Hmm," Maura hummed against Jane's temple, pretending to seriously consider an answer, "try not to attach to the ambient noise. Makes it easier to quiet your mind."

"My mind's been runnin' a mile a minute since you just opened it up for me. My heart, too," Jane said, all throaty vowels and raspy sound waves.

Maura's hands were all over her in the way that drove her wild - in that sexy, domestic way, with palms against her cheeks to hold her face while they kissed, with fingers sliding down the length of her back, up and down and in calming circles, just to let her know that Maura was there, that she was enjoying herself, that she would take care of Jane both inside of their bed and out. "Feel mine," said Maura to her, smirking when she took Jane's hand from the mattress beside them and placed it in between her breasts. "At least you're not alone," she reasoned.

Candlelight, also intended for Maura's quite innocent lesson for Jane on meditation and mental health, now cast the shadow of their union on the wall behind them. They kissed deeply and evenly, the sounds of the repeated meeting of their lips almost covering up the way they both had started to whimper at the pleasure building between them again.

... Until there was a pretty unambiguous thud in the courtyard just below the bedroom window.

"Ok, ok, shush for a second," Jane insisted for real this time. "You had to have heard that."

Maura, for one, didn't want to pay any mind to it. "Your mother must have dropped something," she reasoned between kisses to Jane's very handsome cheekbone, "don't stop." But then, a female voice sounding a lot like Angela's screamed her name in distress. Jane shot up in bed, raising up the entire top half of her body, trying her damnedest to get a peek out of the window with her hands planted on the mattress. Maura rubbed her shoulders. "Ok pull out, out. That sounded serious."

Jane didn't need to be told twice. She flew out of bed, dropping the straps from her hips and hopping into the closest clothes she could find - a pair of sweats with her boyshorts still inside and a baggy BPD t-shirt.

Somehow, Maura had thrown on a matching nightgown and robe combination even faster than she did, and was halfway down the stairs by the time Jane caught up. Maura stopped mid-runner's stride when Angela threw open the back door in her slip and with a terrified look on her face.

"Maura, he fell," she explained out of breath and near tears, "you have to help him - hurry!"

Maura was already out the door, and when Jane ran to help her, Angela blocked her way. "No, not you," she said hastily before slamming it in Jane's face.

"What the hell?" Jane whispered to herself when she yanked it open anyway, and when she saw her lieutenant lying on the ground in nothing but his boxers and an undershirt, she shouted it. "What the hell?! Is that Cavanaugh?"

Angela ignored her. "Sean? Sean!" she called out to Cavanaugh, her hand on his chest. Maura palpated his torso for injuries, and then cradled his head to check for depressions or blood. He had regained consciousness, but there was a large gash on his forehead from where he had hit the bench outside Angela's guest house on the way down.

"Jane, call 911," Maura ordered, and Jane obeyed, running back towards the house.

"No! No!" Cavanaugh shouted. He pointed at her menacingly and she stopped.

"No?" she asked, suspended between his embarrassment and Maura's MD.

"I said no. That's an order, Rizzoli," he replied, his voice shaky but his words final.

Angela rolled her eyes. "You need to do what the doctor tells you, Sean," she said.

Maura looked up to Jane again, her eyes softer this time. "Get me a towel, please?"

Jane nodded. "And Ma, get his pants while we're at it," she said just as she went into the main house.

Angela and Maura were able to help Cavanaugh stand, and he walked under his own power to the couch. Jane handed Maura the towel and her medical bag, careful not to make eye contact with her boss, or consider how similarly dressed her mother and her girlfriend were.

Maura pulled her stethoscope out of her bag and listened to Cavanaugh's heart as it returned to a normal rhythm. Jane curled up on the arm chair to the right of the couch, long legs perched on the cushion and shielding the rest of her body.

"What the hell happened to me?" Cavanaugh asked, pulling the towel away to see how much blood had come from his head. It was a lot.

"It appears you experienced a vasovagal episode," Maura said, frowning as she continued to listen to his chest.

"I uh, I went out to… I had to get some air," he muttered, still flabbergasted that this was happening to him.

"You live in Dorchester," Jane snarked.

"I got lightheaded is all," he said, ignoring her.

"Is that how your pants fell off?" She pushed, and both Maura and Angela glared at her.

"Jane, don't embarrass him," Angela snapped, whipping her head around to shush her daughter.

"Him?" Jane whispered harshly, " _I've_ never been so embarrassed in my life!"

"Well," Maura said, contemplating all his possible diagnoses, "your dizziness could have been caused by sexual arousal and the sudden rush of blood to your genitals." Her authoritative explanation did nothing to assuage Jane's shame.

In fact, it exacerbated it. "Oh my god. Oh my fucking god," she bemoaned her fate. "This isn't happening."

"Ok ok. We weren't making love, we were just making out," Angela said, turning from Maura to Jane.

"Well, we were doin' both! Huh? So imagine my mortification at havin' to picture my mother and my boss doin' the same thing at the same time! I'm gonna have a vasovagal episode if you don't stop," Jane waved her fist.

Maura shook her head at the side fight happening just to her right when the man next to her wasn't out of the woods yet. "You should go to the hospital, Lieutenant," she attempted to convince him.

"No!" he answered, and clearly, the hospital _wasn't_ going to happen.

"Maybe you could just stitch his head up?" asked Angela, "he really doesn't want to go."

"Well, we need to know what caused this," said Maura. "When was the last time you ate?"

"He got his meals at the cafe, same as you two," Angela answered for him, and Jane snorted.

"I might have skipped lunch… and dinner," Cavanaugh admitted.

Angela gasped. "You said my healthy food was sensational and delicious!"

"He meant your healthy food was silent and deadly," said Jane.

Maura sighed, accepting her bystander position in the battle unfolding in front of her. "Well… a butterfly bandage might close this up," she offered reluctantly, marveling at the exponential amounts of blue collar Boston stubbornness filling the air. She tied her robe around her midsection and had Angela go to the kitchen to get Cavanaugh more water before she rummaged through her bag for the appropriate bandage.

Jane wouldn't let Angela off that easy, however. She leapt up from her chair and slid on the waxed hardwood floors to catch her mother before she walked back to the couch. "Uh uh, Ma," she said, her long, toned arms spread wide to stop Angela from ducking away. "So how long have you and my boss been seeing each other?"

"We," Angela paused, pointing between herself and Jane, "are not going there."

"Too late. You're in a slip, and my boss is on my girlfriend's couch in his underwear! What do you have to say for yourself?" Jane griped.

"Oh yeah?" Angela met her, blow for blow. "Look at the two of you. I'd reserve judgment if I were you."

"I didn't call _you_ in the house to save my... " Jane stopped, waving wildly at Cavanaugh and searching for a word that wouldn't want to make her vomit, "person from fainting! I was in my own bed minding my own damn business."

Angela shook her head and grabbed Jane's jaw in her hands. "Let me be a person, Janie." Then she took a glass of water back to Cavanaugh.

Maura put her stethoscope away and zipped up her bag. "I still think you need to be seen in the ER, Lieutenant," she said.

"No," he reiterated. "Look, no one else can know about this incident. You know what? I'm just gonna get in my car and go home." He pushed up with his knuckles on the couch cushion under him and stood up.

Angela sighed, resigned. "Alright. At least let me drive you home, make sure you're ok," she said, ushering him out of the house. "Thanks, Maura," she called out as she shut the back door.

Jane was frozen near the kitchen island when Maura finally walked over, covering her mouth to keep from laughing. "That was…" was all that Maura could manage before having to stifle a chuckle again.

"Please tell me I'm asleep and that was a dream," Jane pouted, jutting her bottom lip out for emphasis.

"Oh you poor thing," Maura teased, taking Jane into her arms anyway. After a few moments of simply holding one another, she said, "who do you think was more embarrassed, you or Cavanaugh?"

"Maura!" Jane complained as Maura laughed unfettered now, "that isn't funny."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Come to bed; it's late," Maura offered, taking Jane's hand as she walked towards the stairs again.

Jane followed, suddenly exhausted. She tried not to think about Angela and Cavanaugh together as she rubbed her eyes vigorously.

* * *

The next morning, Frankie Jr. accepted a mug from his mother in the cafe reluctantly, seeing the tell-tale tag of green tea hanging off of its side. He scrunched up his face at it, but took a sip anyway. "When are we getting coffee back, Ma?"

Angela chuckled. "You'll thank me when you're old."

"I'm not interested in getting old if all I get to drink is green tea," he whined. He walked over to the coffee station to doctor up the tea as best he could when he saw Lieutenant Cavanaugh enter the cafe like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. "Hello," he said softly when he approached Angela at the counter.

"Hi Sean," she answered, happy to see him, but concerned by his tone. She handed him his breakfast for the day and he smiled.

"Thanks, Mrs. Rizzoli."

"I, uh, I gave you potatoes instead of quinoa. You said you missed your potatoes."

"I don't deserve the special treatment." His self-flagellation reminded Angela of Jane.

She shook her head. "Yeah, you do." She figured she could be speaking to either of them.

"Look, Angela," said Cavanaugh, and at this, Frankie strained his ear to hear them without turning around, "you're a wonderful lady."

"But?"

"But I got a job to do here," he replied. "And I never should have started this. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Angela nodded, struck into silence. He smiled at her sadly, and left before she could gather herself to reply to him.

Immediately, Frankie took his place on the other side of the counter. "Ma. Please tell me that you and Cavanaugh…" at Angela's helpless look, her lack of denial, he scoffed. "You are my mother! What are you doin'?"

Angela sniffled noisily and grabbed his boyish face in both of her hands. "Like I told Jane last night, honey, before I was your mother, I was a person," she lamented. "And what's so wrong with wanting to be a person again?" She let a few tears fall and then retreated toward the back of the kitchen before she could make herself feel more like a fool.

"Ma, c'mon," Frankie put his hands out, stricken by his mother's sadness. "You want me to punch his lights out?" he offered.

Angela melted at his boorish loyalty, so much like her brothers and her father. "No," she said to him, and then disappeared.

Frankie sighed, feeling like an ass. He made his way to the two big glass doors that led to the BPD lobby, and froze when he saw Lydia, purse strap in her hands, facing him with pleading eyes.

* * *

"Frankie did good with this one," said Jane, watching Maura examine the new body on her table. "Had the idea of tracking him by the final GPS coordinates on his phone. Can't believe Ethan Slater's psychiatrist committed suicide, too. It seems weird."

"Well, I'm not so sure he did, either, Jane," said Maura. "There was a similar residue on his hand to the one I found on Slater's neck."

"Hmm," Jane hummed as a placeholder for her thoughts. "Could be from the killer's gloves. If neither of them killed themselves, that is."

Maura nodded. It was plausible, but the evidence was nowhere near conclusive. "Do you know which occupation has the highest suicide rate?"

Jane smirked. "Homicide detectives waiting for trace evidence results?"

Maura smiled warmly. "No. Physicians. Our suicide rate is nearly double the national average. It's even higher than dentists."

Jane's eyes got sad before they returned to playful. "Maura, is this some kind of cry for help?"

"Yes," Maura said, putting her clipboard to the side and stripping off her gloves, "if you meditate with me, you will greatly improve the quality of my life."

"Maura!" Jane groaned, "didn't we put that whole meditation thing to bed last night?"

"No, we went to bed last night. Sex isn't a replacement for mental health. Why are you so against wanting to share this with me?" Maura turned stern when Jane brushed her off.

Jane pulled back, surprised by Maura's reaction. "Listen, you have meditating, I have beer and batting practice. We don't need to share everything just because we're together now."

Maura narrowed her eyes. "No, we don't, that's true. But I would like to share this thing. 'Beer and batting practice' is not a proven long-term solution for stress and anxiety. Meditation is. And you have a lot of stress in your life right now. You should learn to manage it."

"Don't knock what works for me, a'right? Don't try to change me. Makes me feel like you don't really want me for me," Jane growled. Her posture was defensive, and so was Maura's. "And I don't want to be you. I wanna have my own stuff, my way."

"I-" Maura began, but then Frankie Jr. burst into the room, out of breath.

"Janie, I need to talk to you," he said. He noticed the icy atmosphere he had just stepped into, but at the moment, it didn't matter. "Shit is, uh, shit is really hittin' the fan upstairs."

Jane acknowledged him and his burly hand hanging on the suite doors. "On my way up."

They both left Maura wringing her hands, angry and confused. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

Jane followed Frankie out of the elevators and back into the cafe, where Angela stood over a sweaty and groaning Lydia Sparks. "What the hell, Frankie?" Jane asked when she saw.

"She came in because she said she wanted to make things right with Ma," Frankie explained. "Who just got dumped, by the way. But we sat her down for a cup of tea and then she started, uh… I don't know. Doin' that."

"Christ," replied Jane, inching closer despite every part of her wanting to run away.

"Jane! Help!" Angela yelled as soon as she caught sight of Jane. "I think Lydia's going into labor."

"A maternity ward's a great place to have a baby, Lydia," said Jane. "Want me to call your ma? Have her meet you there?"

"No no no," Lydia said, taking Jane's hand softly in greeting. When Jane extricated her fingers as softly as she could without being rude, she continued. "My mom hates kids. Especially babies. And there is no way I'm going to a hospital. Ah!"

She screamed as another contraction ripped through her. "She already sent away a team of paramedics," Frankie told his sister with a hand on her elbow. "I left a message for Tommy to tell him to get over here. It's his baby. He has to know."

Jane rolled her eyes. "And what if it's Dad's?"

"Oh he tore up his parent card when he slept with someone younger than us," Frankie said, the both of them flinching when Lydia cried out again.

"I want my baby to be born with his family," she moaned, just before she doubled over in pain.

"Ok, we need to get her to a hospital," Angela said, moving to pull Lydia up by the arm.

"Oh no!" Lydia said as she recoiled, "you cannot make me go there if I don't want to."

"This is not your family!" Jane shouted. "Why did you come here?"

"It's my baby's family!" Lydia countered, "and you're such good people. My little boy didn't do anything wrong."

Just as Jane was about to set Lydia straight, Tommy finally appeared, noticing them immediately and bounding over to them. "Frankie! You pulled me from a job. What's the emergency, huh?" he asked. Then he looked down at the table. "Uh, Lydia. Hey. Good to see you."

Lydia smiled widely at him and his attractive face. Then, her eyes and her mouth relaxed. "Oh, my goodness. It's over," she said, exhaling loudly. "False alarm. Oh, Mrs. Rizzoli, do you think you could forgive me? I just want my baby to be accepted by his family. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

Jane and Frankie could barely contain their rage, and Angela's hands shook with restraint. "I'm a little conflicted here, ok? You had… intimate relationships with both Tommy and my creep of an ex-husband. And you never bothered to tell me who you were when we met," she said, glaring at both Lydia and Tommy.

"Hey, what did I do?" Tommy asked.

Angela smacked the back of his head and pointed to Lydia's pregnant belly. "That!"

"I didn't do that!" he said defiantly, then deflated as he thought it through. "Did I do that?"

"Maybe," said Lydia sheepishly. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Rizzoli. But now that I'm bringing a new life into this world, I'm gonna turn over a new leaf."

Angela nodded, and her children were shocked that she accepted it. "And what about you, Thomas?" she asked.

"Well, I'm definitely wearing condoms from now on," he said lamely.

"Ok, as a sign of goodwill, I'm gonna make you both some lunch. But nobody is gonna call me grandma until I know who the father of that baby is."

When Angela had gone back to the kitchen, Jane dragged Tommy to a private corner of the room. "Ow, what?"

"So what's the plan now, huh Dad?" she smacked his head, his second blow that day.

Frankie folded his arms as he waited for Tommy's response.

"Maybe I could get a job painting houses, more permanent, you know?" Tommy said.

"Oh yeah, he's totally ready to become a father," replied Frankie.

Jane glared at both of them. "No more fishing trips, bud. No more basketball retreats and late poker nights for you. Not if you're this baby's father."

Tommy went white. "I mean, Dad could be the father, right? We don't know. I can't just be giving up everything to take care of Lydia's kid. I still have a life."

Jane bit the inside of her cheek with an ugly kind of realization. She hated how her own words sounded coming out of Tommy's mouth. "You gave that up when you decided to sleep with her with no protection. That comes with a price and this is it, dummy." Frankie nodded severely in agreement until she started to walk back towards the elevators.

"Hey, where are you going?" He tried to grab his sister to keep her with them.

"I got two dead guys, ok? I'm going back to my case," she said.

"No, Jane. Jane! Shit," Frankie cursed, left with his shell-shocked brother and his brother's hapless, possible baby mother.

* * *

Maura sipped the wine in front of her with less enthusiasm than she usually would have. She had not heard from Jane since their spat in the morgue earlier in the day, not even through text, and that bothered her. Since they decided to enter a relationship, they had spent several nights apart, of course, but they texted constantly, called each other regularly. This silence was the longest since they had fought so bitterly after Paddy's shooting.

"She'll call soon, honey," Angela called from the armchair to the left of the couch, reading Maura's mind, her body and its tension.

"How did you…?" Maura asked incredulously.

Angela finished hooking the last loop of her line on a yellow and white baby blanket before answering. "I know her. And I know you too. You haven't used your phone in the two hours you've been home, and you two are always texting each other, like a couple of teenagers. She said something stupid, didn't she?"

Maura wavered, wondering how much to say. "No, not stupid. It's usually her… delivery."

Angela laughed. "Don't I know it. She is her father's child. And that means she'll call, alright? She just needs time. Just like he used to."

Maura tried not to panic at the comparison of Jane to her volatile father. "I hope so," was all that she could muster.

After a few more sips, the doorbell rang.

"I'm expecting some more yarn," Angela said at the sound, "it's probably Amazon."

Maura found herself smoothing the front of her high-waisted black pencil skirt and straightening the silk of her sleeveless blouse, an outfit she had picked specifically for Jane and was now about to be wasted on the Amazon delivery person. She resented that fact.

When she opened the door, however, she was surprised, and arousal washed over her when it was Jane who stood there, raking eyes unashamedly over her. "Hi," said Maura quietly, eyes sad and skin pink under Jane's appraisal.

Jane pulled her lips back, half-grimacing, half-smiling. "Hey." It was then that Maura noticed the cardboard box in Jane's arms. There were various knick knacks and personal items, but the most important thing, Jane's favorite, ancient, baseball glove, the brown leather discolored and dotted by glove oil and restitched holes, sat atop all of it. "So listen. I was wrong today. I don't have much, definitely not as much as you do. But everything I own, you can have it, ok? It's all yours. I should be so lucky to become more like you. And I was an ass to insinuate otherwise."

Maura let a few tears fall as she smiled so brightly her cheeks hurt. "What is that?" she pointed to the box, knowing full well what it was.

"It's the uh, the first of many boxes of my shit. I was real tired tonight, too tired to bring anything more, but I figured this would be a good start," Jane said timidly, goosebumps emerging on her bare arms as she stood in the cold.

"Come in, please," Maura said, moving aside. "You can continue being romantic in the hall."

Jane smirked and kissed her quickly as she entered. "Love you."

"I love you, too," echoed Maura, "and I don't want you to change. Much."

"Thanks. So, where should I put this?" Jane asked, but then stopped when she saw her mother sitting in Maura's living room. "Uh, hey, Ma."

"Hi baby," Angela smiled into her knitting. "I told Maura not to worry, that you would call, because that's what your father would always do. But you did one better. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jane said, blushing scarlet.

Maura took the box from her. "I'll put this in the guest room and we can decide what goes where in the morning."

When she disappeared up the stairs, Jane sat on the couch cushion closest to her mother. "Sorry about your shitty day, Ma. Did Lydia and Tommy end up working anything out?"

Angela laughed ruefully. "No. But she started having contractions again after you left. I don't know if they were false or not. Thankfully Tommy convinced her to go to the hospital, but she wouldn't let anyone go with her. I guess she's gone rogue."

Jane put her elbows on her thighs and wrung her hands. "Need me to track her down?"

"You and Frankie, such chivalrous knuckleheads. But, I'm done trying to sway her," Angela sighed. "I figure that baby's gonna be in our lives either way, so I'll just accept him as he is when he comes. But she better get a paternity test before anybody calls me Grandma or calls you Aunt Jane."

"Yeah, no kidding. Just tryin' to figure out how to force her. She seems dead set against it," said Jane.

"You three will charm her somehow," Angela shrugged, "just keep at it."

"Who are you charming?" Maura called as she trotted back down the stairs.

"Lydia," Angela replied.

Jane rolled her eyes. "We're gonna try to get her to get a paternity test for the baby," she said.

Maura had never felt like she belonged more than this moment, in her Beacon Hill home with her Boston-sounding partner and her North End-native quasi-mother-in-law. "That's a must. Come have some wine." She needed Jane near her.

Jane rose with several pops and cracks in her joints, and almost made it to the kitchen when the doorbell rang again.

"Now that _must_ be my yarn," Angela said. "Get that, will you?"

Jane raised her brow at Angela. "God, how much more yarn do you need for that baby blanket? Speaking of, Lydia said she was having a boy today. When did she-" she cut herself short when she saw what had just been dropped off.

"Is it the yarn?" Angela asked, not noticing Jane's sudden silence.

"Jane?" Maura called, watching Jane bend down to pick something off the doorstep.

"It's uh, it's Lydia's baby," said Jane breathlessly. When she turned around, she held a swaddled newborn in blue. "She must have just left him…"

"Oh my god," said Maura, running over to check him.

Angela shot up, just as worried. Jane pulled him close, hoping to imbue him with as much warmth as she could. "Hi baby," she said softly to him, and when he looked up at her, she saw her own eyes.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am elated because I just finished the last chapter of Boston Kama Sutra last night. This story has been an epic labor of love, and I've finally completed it! All told there are 35 chapters. Expect updates to be much more frequent now, until we reach the end! Thank you as always for reading and commenting.

At the sound of cries carrying from down the hall into the main bedroom, Jane shot up from the sleep she had precariously constructed only two hours before. Maura, who had just jolted from her position on Jane's shoulder, groaned. "What time is it?" she asked, starting to stir, pulling her robe up from the corner of the bed where she had thrown it the last time she got up.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Jane said, her voice all gravel and whisper. "I got it." She scratched the back of her head and heaved her lower half into the cold, out of the sumptuous warmth of the bed she and Maura shared.

"But you took the last shift," Maura said half-heartedly, dropping her robe back to the floor before even waiting for Jane's response, happy for the reprieve.

Jane shook her head and fell backward so she was laying on her back across the bed, her legs hanging off the edge from the knee down. "Yeah, but I don't cut up dead bodies for living. I need you as sharp as I can get you. Literally and figuratively. It's integral to the success of _my_ work."

Maura smiled, saw what Jane wanted. She leaned down to kiss Jane softly, upside down but still satisfying, still oxytocin-inducing. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Jane teased. She raised her eyebrows at the way Maura's bare breasts bounced so close to her face, smirking as she pushed herself off the bed.

"Formula's on the counter," Maura said, ignoring Jane's crude charm, instead laying down and burrowing deeper under the covers, pulling them all the way up to her shoulders. She peeked from behind the hem of the duvet and watched Jane stumble until her spine and her hips seemingly aligned into working order under her disheveled shorts and t-shirt. Jane was taking Maura's shift with the baby under the pretense of preserving what she could offer professionally, but Maura knew the real reason was far softer, far kinder. Jane was taking her shift so that she could sleep. Because Jane loved her. "You're very handsome like this," she said, the top of her ruffled head poking out near their pillows.

Jane wanted to shrug coolly, but she jumped when the baby wailed again, signalling his distress. She stopped in the doorway and looked down at herself. "Like I passed out on the lawn at my softball team's rager?" she asked, staring pointedly at her twisted Nike socks and the way the waistline of her shorts rested below the one of her underwear because all the elastic had disintegrated.

Maura smiled. "The way you're taking care of this baby. Getting up, feeding him, being a responsible adult."

Jane hummed in what would have been laughter if she weren't so deprived of sleep. "I wouldn't get too comfortable callin' me a responsible adult," she warned, turning toward the hall again. She took one last look back, and her eyes changed: they moistened and softened. "It's good practice, though, isn't it?"

She didn't stay to see the effect her statement had on Maura, the way it made her hug Jane's empty pillow in delight.

* * *

Maura, now in a nightgown and her matching robe, floral and bright, followed the scent of coffee down the stairs and into her kitchen. Jane leaned over the counter, sipping from a steaming mug, and pushed an identical one towards her. "Thank you," said Maura, taking the mug and letting its warmth tingle against her cold fingers. She sipped without thinking, and the sour, chemically taste overpowered her sensitive taste buds. She spit the coffee back into the cup in disgust. "Instant? You served me instant?"

Jane barely registered Maura's annoyance. "Baby I'm so tired, you're lucky I didn't serve you drano."

"Ugh. God." Maura scrunched her face, swabbing her mouth with her tongue to banish the taste. Then, she noticed the silence of the living room and the absence of the Similac Pro-Advance on the table. "Where's the baby?"

"Tommy took the last shift," Jane said as she rubbed one eye furiously with the knuckle of her index finger.

"I didn't even feel you come in after the last time," Maura said.

Jane bit her tongue at the unintended innuendo. Sort of. "You're welcome."

"My hero," Maura said, rolling her eyes, but accepting Jane's lips on hers all the same. She accepted Jane's hands on her hips, scrunching up the silk on their way toward her backside, feeling their way into an embrace that ended with bodies pressed together through the thin barrier of clothes and Jane's quickly-withering self-control. Someone's tongue dipped into the others' mouth, neither was sure whose, because as soon as it happened, the back door clicked open and they flew apart.

"Why would people have more than one of these," Tommy said, oblivious to their kissing. He carried the baby inside of his car seat into the living room and then placed him onto the counter.

Immediately Jane was engrossed, drawn to him as if by trance. "How'd you get him to stop crying?" she asked, her usually hard brown eyes so open and warm for the child in the seat. "Hi baby," she greeted in an inviting whisper. " _Hi baby._ "

Tommy made an exaggerated swinging motion with his arms. "I did this for two hours. My arms are wrecked."

Jane smirked, and then turned back to the baby. She sighed and put a finger to his blanket-wrapped chest.

"He'd be better if he were breast-fed," Maura stated, peering over Tommy's shoulder to get a good look at him. He was new and he was sleeping, but he was definitely a Rizzoli. He looked just like them.

"Don't look at me," Tommy quipped.

Maura ignored him and looked right at Jane instead. "Newborns need a lot of human contact to properly attach. Take him out of the car seat, my love."

Jane didn't need the scientific explanation or the pet name to be persuaded. She was happy to pull him out and hold him in her arms.

"No, no. He was almost falling asleep!" Tommy hissed, but Jane was already rocking the baby back and forth.

"Come here. Hello. You're such a good baby," she mumbled at him happily, nonsensically.

"His name's Mario," Tommy said, admiring both his sister and his maybe-child together.

"Oh hell, you can't name him Mario!" said Jane, turning the baby away from Tommy like he burned him.

"Why not?" asked Maura, "It's Latin. It means 'manly.'"

"Yeah," said Tommy, grateful for the backup. "So there. Hey Maura, you ready to swab me?"

Maura nodded and moved toward her medical bag on the counter. "What, do you two want some privacy?" Jane teased, winking at Maura and glaring at Tommy over the baby's head.

"I'm glad you told me you wanted to do this last night, Tommy. I'm happy to run the test for you," Maura said.

"I'm gonna find out if he's my kid today. Let's do it," Tommy followed her until she pulled out the long swab for sample collection. "Wait… is this gonna hurt?"

"Oh my god, Tommy. It's a giant cotton swab," said Jane.

Maura smiled reassuringly at him. "No. Open," when Tommy did, she put her fingers gently against his jaw and with one swipe, she was done. "Okay, now it's Mario's turn."

Jane glared at the name, but brought him over to Maura, who was equally as gentle with the baby. Mario stared up at her dreamily, none the wiser to the swab entering and exciting his mouth.

"You're not a Mario," Jane cooed to him. Then she looked at her brother. "He looks just like you, Tommy. We should name him TJ for Tommy Jr." Tommy shrugged, standing next to Maura, all three of them in disarray and exhausted. None of them could deny the joy that suffused the sunlit room, however, as they listened to the baby breathe peacefully.

"It's weird that she's so good with babies," said Tommy of Jane. He squeezed Maura's shoulder heartily, and she patted his hand in return.

"Yeah, it is a little surprising, isn't it?" she said indulgently. "Wasn't it wonderful the way we tag-teamed the feedings all night? You know, baby elephants are raised by the female relatives in the herd. The aunts, the sisters, grandmothers."

"Mmm," Jane hummed in approval. "Don't repeat this 'cause I'll deny it, but I wish we were elephants so we could keep him," she whined.

"Maybe me and Lydia could share him," offered Tommy.

"No," Jane said firmly. "Lydia abandoned him."

"Well, technically, she didn't abandon him. She left him with family. Whether you are his siblings or his aunt and father," Maura pointed out.

Jane snarled. "Which is why I can't arrest her."

"Maybe she was just scared," Tommy said quietly in Lydia's defense, knowing it would fall on unsympathetic ears.

Before Jane could rip into Lydia for at least the tenth time in the past twelve hours, her cellphone buzzed on the counter. She narrowed her brow and then shifted Mario to one arm, bouncing him and reading the text to herself.

Tommy's face lit up in awe. "Wow! One hand! Can I try?"

"No!" Jane shushed him. Then she looked at her phone in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense. _Suspicious death at the Division 1 cafe_? I hope Ma's alright." She dialed her mother's number, growing concerned when no one answered. "It's goin' straight to voicemail. Maura, come on. We gotta go."

Maura looked down at herself and then to Jane, shorts and socks still all askew, but already handing Mario to Tommy and heading toward the door. "But I'm in my robe and you're in your pajamas."

"Yeah so? We'll change in the car. C'mon," said Jane. She gave Maura her medical bag and herded her toward the door.

"Wait! W-what do I do with him?" Tommy actually reached out as if doing so could make Jane stay.

"Use two hands, brother," Jane deadpanned. She pointed back at him in warning.

Mario started to cry. "Wha… I… alone? Jane."

"Shh," Jane quieted him. "Two hands."

"Wait. I can't. Jane? Jane!"

* * *

Jane, now fully dressed in a suit and a tucked-in blue-gray v-neck, rubbed calming circles on her mother's back. "You sure you're ok, Ma?"

Angela spared a glance to the man who had coughed up blood onto his breakfast, and then promptly collapsed dead onto the cafe floor. "He… he was enjoying his breakfast special, and, boom… he just drops dead." she sighed.

Jane smiled in commiseration. "I'm sorry."

"How's the baby?" Angela asked to distract herself.

"He's fine," Jane assured her. "We left him with Tommy, though, so…"

Angela smacked her shoulder. "Leave Tommy alone, Jane. I was so proud of the way he hung in with you girls all night."

"Yeah he didn't do too bad," said Jane. "That was rough. Stayin' up all night."

Angela chuckled. "Believe me, I know. I did it with all three of you kids."

Jane crossed her hands in front of her belt buckle and swallowed nervously. "Uh. I don't know how, how a detective could do that long term. With our hours."

Angela's smile was so wide and so sweet that she couldn't help the hug she enveloped Jane in. It compelled her. "You're gonna do just fine, if that's what you want, Janie. And you have someone to help you. Who would love to help you."

They both turned to see Maura then, hovering over the body, purple latex gloves on, eyes scrutinizing physical details and the trace evidence on the middle aged man lying dead on the tile. "Yeah, that's true," Jane said. "I just keep wondering how the hell Pop did all this and lived to tell the tale. He was grumpy on a good sleep day."

"Oh honey, your father didn't do a damn thing," Angela said, rolling her eyes. "He slept like a rock while I woke up and fed you."

Jane glared, less at the woman still next to her and more at this news about her father. "Jesus, really?"

"Really. I was lucky I had your _nanna_ to help out every once in a while. But you know she had heart problems so I couldn't really lean on her," Angela said. "Not like you could lean on, oh I don't know, a doctor."

Jane blushed furiously. "Ma."

"What?" Angela whispered harshly. "You know what I would have given to have a walking, talking, medical encyclopedia when I was trying to keep you quiet at four in the morning? And this one is in love with you!"

"A'right a'right. We're done talkin' about this. We're actin' like this is not in the very distant future."

"It better _not_ be that distant," Angela threatened under her breath.

"Ok, ok," Jane put her hands up in a rare moment of retreat. "Work first, though. You sure you never seen him before?"

"No, never," said Angela, eyes only on Maura as she rose from her perch near the body and walked toward them. "you don't think it's something that he ate here that got him sick, do you?"

Maura raised her eyebrows in the way that said _most anything is possible_. "Botulinum causes death in two to ten hours, but the hemoptysis suggests all kinds of causes."

"What's hemoptysis?" Jane asked.

"It means he coughed up blood. I'll know more once the techs get him to the morgue, but I'd like to test the food he was eating," Maura replied.

"Ok. Hey, Ma, where's his plate?" Jane turned back to Angela.

"I, uh, I don't know," Angela said. "It should have still been on his table."

"A'right well where's Stanley?" Jane asked her.

"He said he needed to take care of something in the back."

"Can you ask him where this guy's last meal is? We need that food. This is a suspicious death, which means the breakfast special is evidence."

"Yes, baby. I'll find Mr. Stanley and ask him what the hell happened to that food," Angela, agreeing to Jane's request, got up and went to the kitchen to find Stanley.

"Kinda weird that that plate just disappeared, right?" Jane said in a sideways hush to Maura.

Maura nodded slowly. "I would say so, yes. I'll start the autopsy as soon as they take him down. See you soon?"

"Yeah," Jane said. "I'll get us some bougie coffee first." She winked and Maura smiled all the way down the elevator ride.

* * *

Someone banged impatiently on Maura's front door and Tommy had never felt more relieved to hear it. When he swung the door open, Frankie stood on the other side in his uniform. "Oh, thank god, bro. Thanks for coming."

Frankie stepped in and immediately looked for Mario. "I gotta get back to work. Is the baby ok?"

"Yeah. I, I think so," Tommy said guiltily.

"You think so?" Frankie interrogated.

"I fell asleep on the couch. He was sleepin' on my chest and… Frankie, he… he rolled off," Tommy whispered.

Frankie threw his hands up. "Oh my god. Did he hit his head?"

"No, he landed on a pillow," said Tommy.

"Oh Tommy, Jesus," Frankie cursed in equal parts relief and disbelief.

"I know! What if he can never ride a bike now? God, I can't be a dad!" Tommy groaned.

"What?" Frankie was still swept up in the whirlwind of Tommy's story when Mario began to cry.

"And now he hates me!" said Tommy, trying to cheer up the baby with a stuffed elephant to no avail. When someone else's knuckles rapped on the front door for the second time in as many minutes, both Rizzoli brothers froze. "Oh crap. What if the neighbors called social services?"

Frankie considered it for a moment, not willing to put anything past Maura's rich, white neighbors. "Calm down, would ya?" He opened the door, anxious to get it over with.

Lydia and her mother pushed into the house. "Lydia?" Tommy said as she walked past him to the baby.

"Hey, Tommy," she said sadly, and then she picked up her child and bounced him, tears already falling. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry Tommy Jr. I love you so much," she said in between wet kisses to his face.

"Tommy Jr.?" Frankie asked aloud.

Tommy shrugged. "I wanted to call him Mario, but…"

Lydia continued to talk to her baby. "Can you forgive me? Can you forgive Mommy?" she asked him, begged him, even though he couldn't reply to her.

Tommy stood behind her and put his hand on the small of her back, rubbing in small circles. "Looks like he does," he said softly.

Lydia looked up at him, still crying. "You think?"

Frankie's voice cut between them. "Lydia, you abandoned that baby."

"According to my probation officer," Lydia's mother, considerably more put together than the last time a Rizzoli had put eyes on her, said as she pointed her finger in Frankie's face, "all she did was leave him with his father. You the father?"

"No." Frankie grimaced.

"How about you?" she asked, turning to Tommy.

"I might be," he proclaimed, putting both hands on his own hips.

"Ok, now we're getting somewhere," said Lydia's mother.

"You can't just leave a baby on a doorstep and then waltz in when you feel like it," Frankie said to her. He tried to communicate all the authority invested in him as an officer of the law, but she seemed undeterred.

"Did he get frostbite?" she asked forcefully.

"What? No! But it's mid-December, he-"

"She rang the doorbell! Paperboy hit him with a paper? Raccoons attack him?"

"No…" Frankie said.

"Ok, then there you go. He wasn't abused. Let's go Lydia," they started to walk towards the door as the baby cried.

"Wait, wait a minute! Frankie, do something! Will you arrest her! Not… not Lydia though," Tommy pleaded for his big brother to help, to get him out of this mess, as he had a thousand times in his life before.

Frankie shook his head. This was a mess he couldn't clean up. Not even as a cop. "I can't. There's no legal grounds, Tommy. We can't prove abuse. Technically, all she did is leave him with family."

"So move," Lydia's mother said, face in Frankie's, "unless you're gonna shoot us."

Lydia sighed. "I'm sorry," she said, looking at both of them, now with no baby in either of their sets of arms, "I thought he might be better off with the Rizzolis. But I… I can't. I just can't. He's my baby."

Tommy rushed over to her, sensing the opening of her heart for him. "Well, he might be my baby, too," he said, the toy elephant still in his hand. "You know, I-I was up all night with him, takin' care of him with my sister."

Lydia's mother shook her head, seeing what he was doing. "Hey, leave her alone. She's been up bawling all night. Now, c'mon Lydia. And, don't think you're gettin' out of child support."

"I'm sorry for all the trouble," Lydia whispered with her eyes still trained on Tommy, his square jawline and his broad chest. "We're just gonna go." And just like that, the house was quiet and TJ was gone. Tommy and Frankie shared twin looks of confusion and despair.

* * *

Jane had her elbows on a countertop in the morgue a few inches from Maura, who catalogued blood samples from their suspicious death, writing data as she went. "You need to let me do my fair share tonight," said Maura, not moving from her task. "That way you can sleep."

"I look that bad, huh?" quipped Jane, but she blinked rapidly to banish the sleep away.

"You look tired," Maura responded with a smile. "You know, cuckoo birds are brood parasites."

"Ok, I think you're the one who needs sleep." Jane rose to a standing position and was now taller than Maura again.

"I'm thinking of creative child-rearing solutions," Maura said.

"Ok, what do cuckoo birds do?"

"They lay their eggs in a host bird's nest, and then they let that bird raise the babies," Maura explained. Then she shrugged. "However, they first destroy the host bird's eggs."

Jane snorted. "So, all we need to do is sneak into some nice family's home, drop off TJ, and get rid of the other kids."

"Tommy named him Mario. But, maybe elephants are a better example. I mean, we're a nice family, right?" asked Maura, eyes trained on Jane as they walked over to the table with the decedent on it.

"We can be," Jane said cautiously. "We're nicer when you're around," she teased. Maura blushed.

"Thank you," she said. She picked up a sterilized steel bowl and held it out to Jane. "Look, barely digested stomach contents."

"Mmhmm," Jane peered into the bowl. "What is it… eggs?"

Maura looked back and dropped her mouth open in pleasant surprise. "Good for you! Yes. Can you tell what that is?" she asked, moving the forceps around in the goop.

"Only if there's a prize," Jane quipped.

"What kind of prize?" Maura purred, already knowing. Her eyes were half on Susie milling about just outside the double doors and half on Jane, thumbs through the front of her belt.

"I'm pretty tired, but if you climb on top-"

"Jane!"

"What?!"

"We're at work! Those doors are not very soundproof," Maura chastised, but her heart wasn't in it as her eyes sparkled and she smirked.

Jane bobbed her shoulders. "Sleep deprivation, remember? Lemme see that." When Maura held out the bowl again, she said, "pancake."

Maura gasped again. "Excellent, baby. Smell this."

And just like that, moment ruined. "I'm totally good."

Maura smelled it anyway. "It's a mint leaf. And this is chocolate. And… this could be whipped cream."

Jane scrunched her brow in concentration. "Maybe from a milkshake?"

"No… it was a coffee drink. Likely frozen," Maura answered.

"But Ma doesn't serve frozen, chocolate, minty cappuccinos," Jane said.

Maura nodded. "Frappuccino is a portmanteau of 'frappe' and 'cappuccino.'"

Jane looked sleepy and puzzled. "Do you ever worry that you'll sound pretentious?"

"No," said Maura honestly. "What about Tank? Another portmanteau: Tommy plus Frank equals Tank."

"Ugh, no. We're gonna find out who the baby daddy is and that person is going to take full responsibility. No sharing. I just hope like hell that it's Tommy," Jane said.

"Well, results should be coming in any time now, Jane," said Maura. "Then we'll know where to go with this."

"Yeah," Jane said. She crossed her arms and sniffed. When the suite doors opened to reveal her brother Frankie, she knew instantly that something was wrong.

"Hey, can I talk to you two for a minute?" He asked. His shoulders slumped and his eyes looked like he had been rubbing at them.

"Yeah, bud. Let's go to the office," Jane put her hand on his back and the three of them moved into Maura's office, closing doors as they went. "What's the matter?"

"Lydia took the baby," Frankie said. The news was clean, direct, and devastating. Jane's brow plunged forward like she suddenly could not understand English. Her mouth settled in a hard line and Frankie knew it was what she could do to keep from crying. She dropped to the couch and put her head in her hands.

"What the hell do you mean, Lydia took the baby?" she finally choked out.

"I was by the house this morning, helpin' out Tommy, and her and her peach of a mother showed up," Frankie explained, his voice raising and the little vein on the side of his forehead starting to pop. "She walks in and takes him, saying sorry and all this stuff about how she tried to let him go but she's his mother and she couldn't be without him."

"Well, she should have thought about that _before_ she abandoned him!" Jane growled. Maura, still standing, went to Jane and put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't speak.

"I know! I know that," Frankie sighed. "I couldn't do anything. All I could do was watch her take him. And listen while her ma pestered Tommy about child support."

"We don't even know if Tommy's the father," Jane spat out. The vitriol spilled out into the air, making it thick with tension.

"Let me check on that," Maura said, walking out of her office and into the crime lab. She returned shortly with a nondescript, purple file folder. "Just came in," she said, holding it up to them.

Frankie looked at her, a little bit crazed. "Well?"

"Tommy is the father," Maura breathed out as she analyzed the results.

"Thank god," Jane said, eyes up to the ceiling and a small smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes.

"So… what do we do then, Janie?" Frankie asked her, searching out her counsel and her help. Leaning on her.

Jane's shoulders showed the weight of it as she put her elbows on her thighs and kneaded the scars on her hands. "I have an in with Dan Stevens. I could call him."

"The ADA?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah. Me and him have a pretty good close rate. He likes workin' with us because we get the job done. I'm sure I could call him for some free legal advice," said Jane. The formation of a plan calmed her, gave her some purpose. "I'll do that now."

"Good idea," said Maura. She put Tommy's results in her bag, intending to give them to him later in the day.

Jane dialed Dan and he picked up, thankfully. "Hey Dan, it's Jane Rizzoli, from BPD. Yeah, yeah. I'm doin' alright. Listen, I've got a brother who's in a little bit of a pickle, though, and I need some advice," she said. "Yeah he's fine, he just, well, he's got a baby with a woman he's not with. She left him on our doorstep last night, but came by this morning and took him. What kind of recourse does he have to get the baby back?" She paused; waited for his answer. "No I know, that's what I told him. Technically she left him with family. Ok, that's what I thought. No that's it. Thanks, Dan."

When she hung up, she lowered her head again. "It's what I thought. As his mother, Lydia has a legal claim. She holds all the cards."

"What about Tommy?" Frankie asked.

"He'd have to fight her in court. A relative can file a motion for temporary guardianship while they duke it out," Jane replied.

"Ok, then let's do that," Frankie said, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"But it's a three-month wait for a hearing, brother," Jane said glumly.

"Which means TJ goes into foster care," Maura thought out loud.

Frankie sighed. "We can't do that to him."

Maura agreed. "Lydia is a bit hapless, but she doesn't seem evil."

"I mean I don't like her, but TJ's definitely better off with her than being bounced around in the system," Jane said. "Frankie, you don't think she'd hurt him, do you?" Her voice was small, timid, and there were all her worries laid bare: that someone would harm the baby she'd grown to love as her own blood.

Frankie felt the same. "No way. I wouldn't have let her take him if I thought something was gonna happen to him."

"What about Lydia's mother?" Maura asked, "Lydia said that she doesn't like babies."

"Maybe we should try to get him," Jane said impulsively, staring straight at Maura. She watched the breath fly out of Maura's lungs and pepper the air around them. She watched her eyes blow open in surprise.

"Wh-what? You would like to raise Mario?" Maura asked.

"Sort of… yeah," Jane said, clarifying when she saw the incredulity on Maura's face. "I mean, not full time. Just… some of the time. I don't know! We should tell Ma."

Maura laughed softly. "Tommy wants to tell her himself, as soon as he gets the results," she said.

"Well let's get the results to him so we can tell her," Jane said, standing. "You gonna call him or you want me to?"

"I'll do it," Maura said, worried by the mask that had just dropped over Jane's face, blank and unfeeling.

"Alright. Thank you," said Jane kindly, blandly. She offered Maura a kiss, which was accepted, a quick and unremarkable peck, and then she and Frankie left for the homicide bullpen.

* * *

"This is from the doorway into the Boston Joe's right by St. Avitus," Barry Frost rubbed his chin before pressing play on the video queued up at the front of the room.

Jane sat with him in BRIC, at the desk diagonal from his own. "That's where Phil went to AA, right?" she asked. "Maura said his minty fro-cap probably came from there. Someone slipped warfarin into his cup that morning, poisoned him. Hopefully we can find out who on this video."

Frost nodded. "Ok, so that's Phil there. And see the woman?"

Jane sat up straighter in her chair. "Yeah. Who's she?"

"I'll see what I can do with facial recognition," Frost said, punching keys and pulling up the program.

"Ok. I'd like to know what they're arguin' about, too," said Jane.

"No help there, Jane. No audio," he replied.

"Shit," Jane cursed their luck and her own with the day she was shaping up to have. When she noticed her brother coming toward them, she waved him in through the open door. "

Maybe he could drum up a little good fortune for them. "Hey Frankie, come in here."

"Yeah?" Frankie asked.

"Frankie can read lips," Jane said to Frost. "Maybe he can help us out with this."

"Oh yeah? Really?"

"Yeah, he spent a lot of time on the bench when he started little league, reading coaches' lips," Jane explained.

"I got really good at it," Frankie said, smiling despite himself.

"Got good at benchwarming, too, huh?" teased Frost, raising his eyebrows at Frankie, who only coughed.

"Tell him," Jane goaded, punching Frankie in the side.

"Tell me what?" Frost asked.

"Ah, doesn't matter," Frankie said waving Frost off.

"Yes it does! He was an amazing player, and he was on his way to pro ball," Jane stuck up for him, took pride in him.

"Wow," Frost exhaled genuinely, "I'm sorry, bro."

Frankie accepted it. "Blew out my arm. Thrower's elbow. Tommy John at 17, but I was never the same after that. Janie was pretty good, too, you know. All-pro at BHCC both years. So what did you need?"

"Tell us what he's saying," Jane ordered, pointing to the victim on the screen.

"Uh, ok," Frankie squinted as they talked, "He's saying, 'I didn't sign up for this.'"

"Didn't sign up for what?" Jane commented.

"Looks like he's saying, 'I didn't know men in tights would kill people.'"

Frost laughed. "Amazing. How does he do it?"

"Wait, no. 'I didn't know mennonites would kill people," Frankie revised.

"Well, there's a mennonite killer out there," Frost said, unable to help himself.

"Not helping, Frost," Jane shook her head. They all turned back to the screen, however, when the monitor beeped.

"Whoa. Got a hit on the facial recognition. Alice Vanderbilt. Let's go pick her up. You guys in?" Frost asked, sending her address to his phone and grabbing his blazer from the back of his chair.

"Yup," Jane answered easily, and both she and her brother followed him out.

* * *

At 1429 Pinecrest Drive, just out front, Jane sat alone in her unmarked car on the phone while Frankie and Frost awaited morgue techs in Alice Vanderbilt's garage. "You'll be gettin' another one soon," she said by way of greeting.

" _Hello to you, too,_ " said Maura, her voice crisp and clear, obviously coming from her office landline. " _I take it the questioning did not go well?"_

"When we got here she was already dead," Jane said, frustration evident in her tight Boston vowels and lax New England Rs. "Car exhaust."

" _That is an unpleasant way to die. I sent Alex out for the body. He should be arriving shortly. What's bothering you?"_

"Everything," Jane actually felt herself pout. "She was kind of the one lead we had. But I mean this tells us somethin'. She felt bad about those people on your tables getting meningitis from her vaccine. Question is, why would Phil and Alice willingly infect people?"

" _A grift, maybe? To sue their company? I don't know, Jane. This isn't my forte."_

"No, no. That's good. Maybe. But lawsuits have to be filed by live people. So, why would two relatively healthy adults die of bacterial meningitis?"

" _Most likely there were underlying conditions, compromised immune systems."_

"And obviously that's something you can't know ahead of time without getting caught. The only thing that they would need to make the scheme complete is a shifty lawyer to take up the class-action suit. And I think I might know who that lawyer is. Someone Frost and Korsak met at Phil's AA meeting."

" _Well, it sounds like you've got it all figured out. I can't say I understood any of that, but that's what makes you good at your job."_

Jane sighed. The pounding in her head wouldn't stop and her irritability burgeoned with the realization that she was going to have to be here awhile, dealing with the mess that Alice's suicide left in its wake, and then going to have to question the lawyer, _and then_ she was going to have to go home and face her family. Face all that Lydia had done, face a house without TJ in it. "Listen, I need some alone time after work. I'll keep in touch, but let me do the calling."

Jane could tell by the pause that Maura was taken aback. " _Uh, ok. Do you know when you'll be home? We should probably talk to your mother and make sure that your brother is ok."_

"No I don't. I just need some time to think. I'll come around when I come around, if I don't end up sleeping at my place. Just… don't call me, a'right?" When she said it, she knew she hurt Maura's feelings. She knew that she made Maura sad and made her feel small.

Maura _sounded_ small on the other line. " _Ok, Jane."_

Jane only sniffed. "Ok. I gotta finish this up now. Somethin' tells me I'll have the lawyer wrapped up before quittin' time. I, uh, I love you."

_"I love you, too."_ Maura had opened her mouth to say something else, Jane had heard the pop of her lips, ready to speak, but then had hung up before Maura could finish it.


	23. Chapter 23

When Maura walked in the door to her house at 8 PM, she had wanted to see Jane. She got Tommy instead. He was picking up the living room, baby paraphernalia stuffed under his arms as he milled about in his black crew socks. "Hi, Tommy," she said politely, sighing as she put her purse on the table in the front hall and walked into the kitchen.

"Hey Maura," he said, and put Mario's things down at the sight of her. "How you doin'? Long day? Besides the obvious, I mean." He nodded cheekily to the toys and the bottles on the counter.

She waited until she filled her wine glass on the counter before answering. "I'm ok. It has been a very long day, and Jane is… well."

"Jane's what?" he asked, interest piqued. He slid over to her on his socks in the exact way his sister liked to do.

It made her frown, as if she wanted to cry. "She's missing. Well, not missing, per se, she's just… she called and now I don't know if she's coming home."

"What'd she say?" Tommy asked, and god bless him, even though his baby had just been taken from him earlier in the day, he was trying to cheer Maura up. He looked like he had stepped in front of a Mack truck and somehow lived to tell the tale, and she mused that she probably did not look far better.

"Not much," she sighed. Jane had been missing for hours: three, to be exact. She had clocked out right at five, according to Korsak, who called Maura a few hours before. No word since. "She said not to worry…"

"But she needed alone time? Don't call her, right?" he finished for her cheekily. He had dark circles and no gel in his hair, and he was in the morning's shorts and long sleeve tee. He still looked so handsome to her when he talked about Jane that way.

"I think that may be verbatim what she said. How do you do that?" Maura said with her fingertips on her temple and her other hand crossed under her elbow.

"Lack of boundaries. We lived practically on top of each other. I've memorized every Jane and Frankie line in the book," he said as he shoved his long feet into the New Balance runners at the front door. "Speakin' of, I know where she is. C'mon. I'll drive ya."

Maura shook out of her reverie. "Wait, what? Just like that? Tommy, what's going on?"

"Janie's pissed, Maura. And when she says she needs alone time, she's doin' the same thing that she's always done for the past twenty years."

"But… I don't want to cross a line. If this is a line for her and she wants to be alone, then I need to respect that," Maura said nervously. She fiddled with the hem of her blouse, unsure where all this sudden second-guessing came from.

"You been a mess ever since you walked in the door," Tommy scoffed. "C'mon. Let's go for a drive. Let me show you somethin' about Jane you don't already know. Trust me. It's gonna be important, you know, for down the road."

Maura regarded him silently for a few seconds, the way he shrugged on his Carhartt jacket like he already knew her answer, and she decided that she shouldn't pretend he didn't. "Alright," she agreed, and he held out her black cashmere coat for her. They made quite the pair: the working class man in ruffled comfortwear and the Boston Brahmin doctor in all designer.

He held the door open for her and she nodded to him when they stepped into the courtyard. Their breath puffed out in wispy pockets of heat against the chill of mid-December, and Maura pulled her coat tight around her body. She tried not to gape at Tommy, whose only sign of cold, even with his bare legs exposed to the air, was the occasional loud sniff.

"Fair warning, car just got heat. Rondo helped me repair it and I haven't had a chance to test it yet, so we could be roughin' it til we get to where we're goin'," Tommy said, jogging out across the street and to his car. He opened the passenger door for her.

"A 1977 Camaro," Maura breathed, enamored with the vehicle even with its stripped paint and beat up interior.

"You know your cars!" Tommy said excitedly. "This is what I was savin' up my money for before I found out about Mario, just doin' a little bit to it at a time. Seats are cracked, but clean. New ones are comin' in Monday, sorry."

"I can't wait to see them," she said, swatting away his embarrassment. She slid into the bucket seat and buckled her seatbelt. The cab smelled like pine scented air freshener, motor oil, and Tommy. It was comforting as they pulled away. "So, where are we going?"

"You'll see," he said with his eyes on the road and one hand on the heat lever. "Ah ha! The heater lives!"

For a moment, his exhilaration made her forget about her worry for Jane, and she caught the positivity in the air. His calloused right hand maneuvered the gear shift with ease, and the muscles of his thighs flexed in practiced precision as he punched the gas. He and Jane had the same legs and Maura felt at home. She saw him then, as himself and as an extension of Jane, the anxiety of the past twenty-four hours bending him in places he shouldn't bend at thirty-two years old. "How are you doing? With all of this?"

"What, you mean with Mario?" He said, glancing at her briefly, "I'm hangin' in there. I miss him already, you know? I feel like, well, I was fuckin' up big time this morning, but at least we were gettin' to know each other."

"You weren't fucking up," Maura assured him, patting his knuckles. "Babies fall all the time. He fell onto a pillow."

"Yeah, I'm just not ready. But that doesn't really matter, does it? He's here now and I gotta man up if I want him around. I already started researching custody lawyers if Lydia doesn't bring him back."

"Tell that to your siblings. They're falling apart," Maura said quietly under the orange glow of the street lights as they drove from Beacon Hill to the North End. "And he's not even their baby."

"Meh. He kinda is. They know I can't do this alone. They got attached - they get attached." When they pulled into the parking lot of a little league compound, the stadium lights flooding the icy grass and making it shine, Maura heard the fluid _ping_ of an aluminum bat, unmistakable as it punished a ball. Tommy inched them forward slowly, until they were just a few feet from the chain link fence and people came into view. "She's not alone, not really. As you can see." He said as he put it in park and cut the engine.

Jane stood on the left side of the plate, hacking with violence each time the machine near the mound spit out a softball. Frankie Jr. roamed left field, catching each fly ball as it died right at the rim of the track. The harbor sang with life behind them, beyond the walkway just past the fence, the crest of black waves and jingle of boat bells oblivious to the shit being worked out at home.

"She's going to rupture an oblique!" Maura gasped, grasping for the door handle.

Tommy touched her forearm. "Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down, Maura. She'll be fine. Just watch for a little bit, will ya?" He assured her, and the confidence in his grin convinced her. Barely.

"What am I looking at, Tommy?" she asked. He continued to smile and held up his hand to her, now that it wasn't shifting gears. She took it and it was warm. He squeezed hers, small and delicate in his palm, and the familial show of affection slowed her heart rate.

"Janie's white whale," he said. "You see what she's doin'?"

"Swinging out of her shoes?"

"Yeah," Tommy laughed. "Definitely that. You ever watch her play before?"

"Yes. We play together for the work league."

"You ever see her hit a home run?"

"Often."

"Where to?"

"What?" Maura felt as though he were about to delve into a foreign language.

"What field? Where does she usually hit 'em?"

"Oh," she nodded. This she could answer. "To right field. Sometimes to center field. _Oh_ ," she said again, this time in epiphany as she heard Jane's yell when another softball blistered against the fence, missing going over by about six inches. Frankie whistled, no doubt feeling lucky to still have a head on his shoulders. "She is attempting to hit a home run to left field."

"You got it," Tommy said. "Janie's never been able to go oppo-taco on purpose. She's done it, and this is an exact number, five times since she started playin' in high school."

"Oppo-taco?" Now Maura was sure he was speaking a different tongue.

"Opposite field home run," he clarified.

"Ah. So she does this when she's upset? She needs to change her launch angle."

Tommy looked at her, clearly pleased. He squeezed her fingers again. "You know your baseball, too. But nah. She needs to gain about fifteen pounds. She's too skinny to muscle it out."

"She's very strong," Maura said, a tad more defensively than she meant.

"Sure she is," Tommy conceded. "But remember Hoyt? Her reaction time is just a tick slower since him. Her bat speed isn't what it was at 20 or 25, either. The extra weight would compensate for that and she could just drive it out."

"So why doesn't she do that?" Maura kicked off her heels and set them to the side of the floor as she tucked her feet under her thighs.

"When she played for BCC she did, but it's too hard for her to keep it on. The Rizzoli metabolism is a curse for athletes. It's why I picked basketball; skinny legs don't matter as long as they hold up. I mean, when she was serious, it was six meals a day and boatloads of white rice and chicken. I never want to smell that shit ever again. Makes me nauseous just thinkin' about it. Not to mention three hours a day on weights. So, she'll do this instead, and take it out on Frankie when she's mad."

Maura looked at their intertwined fingers on the console, his keeping hers warm as they talked. Then she looked at Jane, committing murder in the batter's box, both on the ball and her own body. "She really is going to hurt herself if she doesn't stop, Tommy."

Tommy nodded. "Don't worry about it. Depending on what time they started, I bet you she's gonna get even madder and switch to pullin' the ball _real_ soon. Give her three more swings."

And sure enough, Tommy was right. Jane said _fuck!_ louder than Maura had ever heard her say it before, and then she adjusted the velcro of her batting gloves six, seven, eight times each, knob of the bat nestled against the inside of her thighs. Despite the near freezing temperatures outside, sweat soaked through the armpits of her hoodie, forming rims of black against faded Red Sox navy. She bent the brim of her hat, also full of sweat. Then, she picked the bat back up, assumed her stance, and tattooed a ball to the moon in right field. Just after, in a show of dominance and rancor, she shuffled the huge mound of… something in her mouth from her right cheek to her left and spit on the ground inches from her foot.

Maura was half-awed and half-mortified. "Is that tobacco?!" She tried exiting again.

Tommy guffawed. "Relax. It's Big League Chew." When she continued to stare at him, mouth agape, he said, "Gum. Just gum." Frankie didn't bother jogging out to right, and Jane launched three more softballs into orbit. Maura watched one disappear into the inky sky, only to see it plunk into the water of the harbor. Tommy whistled at that one, smirking wickedly as Maura watched. "She's good, huh?"

"Very," was all that Maura could manage.

Tommy chuckled again. "Whenever she tells you that she needs to be alone, don't believe her. She's usually with Frankie. They're practically twins, and this is what they're usually doin'. They get sad together, Maura. They have each other but sometimes they spiral. I need ya to help me pull 'em outta that tonight, ok? Don't let her push you away. Things with Mario are bad right now, yeah. But I have faith we're gonna pull it together. As a family."

Maura agreed with him by the way she pulled the back of his hand to her cheek. She sighed, content to luxuriate in the moment.

"What?" Tommy asked with a blush and a smile.

"You're all just so _dreamy,"_ she explained, meeting his gaze. "Do you know that? Do the three of you know that?"

"Well I don't know about dreamy, but we must be doin' somethin' right if someone as classy as you keeps hangin' around," he said, just as enamored with her as she was with him and his siblings. "Hey. I could stand to blow off some steam. What about you?" He took his hand out of her own and rummaged around in the backseat until he pulled out a Bluetooth speaker. He brandished it with pride and tossed his head in the direction of the field.

Maura hesitated. "Should we really interrupt them? They seem to want to be left alone."

Tommy was already out of the car. He leaned back in to say, "Spiraling, remember? You and me are gonna stop the cycle. Let's go."

"Alright, alright," Maura finally acquiesced, running a hand through her hair, pushing it toward her back. "Just let me put on my shoes."

Soon they were ambling toward the third base line. "Hey Rizzolis! Need some company?" Tommy shouted, arms out wide with his speaker in his hands.

"The hell are you - Maura?" Jane, who had paused to crack open one of the beer cans that Frankie handed to her, led with anger but dissolved in relief at seeing Maura approach.

She and Tommy entered the slim opening of the fencing of the visitors' dugout, finally making it to Jane and Frankie. "When you said beer and batting practice, you weren't kidding, were you?" She asked, the hint of a twinkle in her eye, but she was still timid.

Jane shrugged. "Nope. Thought I told you I wanted to be alone."

"I would buy that, but Frankie's here."

"Frankie doesn't count. He's like my shadow."

Maura nodded. "He goes where you go."

Jane cooled a bit, stepped closer to Maura and nodded back. "Somethin' like that."

Maura smelled sweat and alcohol and lavender as Jane entered her space. A heady combination that gave her gumption. "Come here, all of you, please," she said, motioning for the two Rizzoli brothers to join them from their side conversation several yards away. They obeyed immediately. "Tommy said something very poignant to me on the way over here."

"Tommy said somethin' poignant?" Frankie asked. "Shit."

Jane cracked a smile and stifled a laugh, her only one since mid morning. "There's a first time for everything," she responded.

Tommy glared. "You guys are real chuckleheads, you know that?"

Maura cleared her throat. "As I was saying, Tommy said something very poignant in the car. And that was that we are all in this together. We all want Mario in our lives-"

"TJ," Jane cut her off.

"The baby," Maura returned, diplomacy abounding. "We want the baby in our lives. And yes, Lydia took him. She has rights. But if we work together, I'm sure we will find a solution that fits for everyone. But you two," she paused, pointing between Jane and Frankie, "can't sulk like this. You can't disappear for an entire evening and shut us out. That's not going to help the cause; it's just going to put everybody on edge."

Frankie looked at his shoes and Jane scoffed.

"Got it?" Maura tried more firmly, and finally the both of them nodded. "Good."

"See? I can be deep," Tommy added, and they shared a laugh together. "Ten bucks says I can _take_ you deep, too, big bro."

Jane shook her head. "He's gonna embarrass you, Tom. Don't do this," she warned, but couldn't help the smile that crept all the way to her eyes.

"Bullshit, Janie," said Tommy, turning on his speaker and cranking a song with a trap beat. "Let me get some practice hacks in first and then I'm riding it all the way out to the harbor."

"You're on," said Frankie, stretching his pitching arm, the one with the long scar on the inside of his elbow.

Jane looked over at Maura in three inch heels and her heart fluttered. "Frankie's gonna blow everything right by him," she said.

Maura turned and met Jane's gaze. "I would imagine so. Let them have fun anyway," she said as the boys' whoops and hollers carried over the music.

"Thanks for comin'," said Jane. "I'm happy to see you."

"Thank your brother. I had no idea where you were," Maura said sternly.

Jane nodded. "I'm sorry I was an ass."

"I'm sorry you're hurting," Maura shot back, cutting through the fat of it all. "But don't shut me out."

"You're right," Jane sighed. "I'm tryin'. But when Lydia took that baby and we didn't even have a chance to say goodbye… that fucked me up a little bit, Maura."

Maura put her hands on Jane's cold cheeks. "I think it fucked us all up a little bit. But Tommy's right, Jane. We'll get what we want, in the end. We just have to fight for it. And lean on each other."

"He always had that unflinching positivity," said Jane as she looked to Tommy wistfully. "I hope he gets this right."

"I think he will," Maura assured her. After a few seconds of relaxed silence, she spoke again. "I told him I thought the three of you were dreamy."

"What?! When? How the hell did that happen?" Asked Jane as her eyes blew open.

Maura smirked. "Just now, in the car. He was being very sweet. And then I was watching you attack those softballs and…"

"You had feelings?" Jane guessed grumpily.

Maura smushed Jane's face between her hands and kissed the scrunched lips with passion. "Definitely. Of affection for him, of… something else entirely for you."

"Oh yeah? Like what else?" Jane murmured around her bunched mouth.

"Like love," Maura pondered sarcastically.

"Uh huh. I love you too," Jane goaded.

"And admiration."

"Anything else?"

"Respect, for sure."

"Maura!" Jane whined, and Maura finally laughed aloud.

"And lust. Something about these sweat stains and the way you swallow with a wad of gum the size of a basketball in your mouth should be repulsive. But it's really doing it for me. All of it," she purred, stepping into Jane's chest to allow herself to be held.

Jane wrapped her arms around her. "Well that's good, because this is the most me I'll ever be."

"I know," Maura said against her neck, "I think that's why. I want you to use all of that torque on me." She pressed their fronts together slowly, almost imperceptibly, to prove her point. "Then when we're good and tired I'm going to run you a model on the appropriate launch angle for a woman of your size and talent to hit a ball over the left field fence."

"Easy, tiger," Jane chuckled, placing stilling hands on Maura's hips, then freezing when the last part of Maura's statement registered. "Wait. You figured it out?"

"It's basic geometry, Jane," Maura looked up by pulling her head away.

"How about you show me that now and if I hit it out, I'll torque you til the sun comes up?" Jane asked, all exhilarated and determined.

Maura scoffed. "You are unbelievably crass, but also, so on. I guarantee that if you do what I say, it'll take twenty, thirty swings, tops."

Jane actually hopped before jogging back out to the plate. "Ok boys, change of plans. Out of my way, Maura's gonna show me somethin'."

Frankie and Tommy griped their displeasure, but Jane could be oh-so-persuasive when on the hunt. And sure enough, with a little bit of luck and a flick of the wrist just in the way Maura described, her third softball sailed over the fence all the way out to left field.

The four of them cheered raucously.

* * *

The Rizzoli siblings, along with Maura, spilled into her house in a decidedly better mood than when they all had left it. "Shoes, off. Right here, before you track all that dirt in my house," said Maura on the tail end of light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah," Jane hopped around in the foyer as she kicked off her sneakers and her brothers did the same. "You two wanna stay for-"

"Where have the four of you been?! Don't you check your phones?!" Angela, seated at the kitchen island, turned from her almost-empty glass of Irish whisky as soon as she heard them. "And you're filthy!"

Jane pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket and turned it on. It pinged with at least a dozen missed calls between her mother, Maura, and Tommy. "Shit, Ma. I'm really sorry." She, Frankie, and Tommy approached Angela, flanking her side and patting her knees. Maura went around to the other side and refilled her glass.

"Thank you," Angela whispered to her. She surveyed her children, Tommy now seated on the stool behind her with his hand on her shoulder, Jane on the one across from her, and Frankie standing next to her. She was surrounded. "You smell. And Janie's sweating like she ran a marathon. What the hell were you doing?"

"Takin' some batting practice is all, Ma. We just lost track of time," Tommy said, taking the heat for all of them, something he knew how to do quite well.

"Well, while you've been out having fun, I've been here, alone, worrying myself sick. I just don't understand. We can't walk away from that baby. How can you all just move on, play sports like nothing happened?" Angela asked all of them.

Jane leaned her elbows on her thighs and smiled contritely at her mother. "I know you've never really got it, Ma, but that is how we worry ourselves sick. Or, well, you know, deal with the worry. We're just as broken up."

Tommy once again broke through the tension and the silence that soon bubbled up. "I uh, I talked to Lydia today. After Maura told me that the baby was mine."

Jane looked up hopefully. "Is she gonna share custody?"

"No, she says she can't forgive herself for abandoning Mario," said Tommy.

"Mario? You named him Mario?" Angela stared daggers at him.

"Ma!" Frankie chided her, but with a small smile.

Tommy chuckled. "Doesn't matter. Lydia named him Thomas Sparks, Jr. so I guess that's his name."

"TJ," Jane smiled to herself, too, feeling a little victorious.

"Ha ha!" Frankie cheered. "Tommy's a senior!"

"I don't know, guys, I mean… I-I told you what I did. I can't be a father to him. He almost got killed," Tommy, who had been the picture of positivity all night, finally showed a little bit of his insecurity.

"Oh, Tommy. He rolled off your chest," Angela shrugged, turning her chair to face him. "I dropped you once."

"Oh my god," Tommy gasped.

"Is that what happened to him?" Frankie asked, and Maura stifled a chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tommy replied.

"I was rocking him and I fell asleep. You were fine. You uh, you bumped your lip," said Angela, touching Tommy's upper lip gently. "I cried, you cried. And look, it's all ok."

Jane got up and went to her baby brother, taking his head in her hands and kissing the side of it wetly. "Tommy, it's alright, ok? Like you said. We'll all help you."

Tommy blushed. "Ma's right. You do smell," he said, pushing her in the side and smirking when she glared at him.

Frankie rolled his eyes. "Come on, Tommy. You gotta man up. Lydia's mom says they're coming after you for child support, too."

"Well I'm gonna pay child support. I'm no deadbeat Dad," Tommy argued seriously.

"Ok, good," said Jane.

"But I don't have a steady job and Lydia and I aren't a couple." He stated the obvious, their obstacles.

"Tommy, we want TJ in our lives," Angela cried, holding her son's face in both of her hands.

"So do I," Tommy said.

"A'right, so you fight for joint custody," Jane offered, already gearing up for a battle.

Angela shook her head. She looked Tommy full in the face. "There's another way to do this. A better way."

* * *

"You know, you ever want to stop volunteering for dinners at your place, you just tell me. I'll get Ma off your back," Jane said, standing in Maura's office doorway the next evening with a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

They were festive, a Christmas variety, and they contrasted with the no nonsense of Jane's gray suit and white v-neck underneath. Maura stood in front of Jane with her purse straps in both of her hands. She nodded to her coat on the coat rack near Jane's body, and Jane grabbed it, held it out to her while still holding the flowers. "I wouldn't want to have them anywhere else. This way, I can keep an eye on all of you."

Jane laughed. "Even so, thanks."

Maura finally took the bouquet. "You know, the last time you bought me flowers, we-"

Jane had now crossed her semi-free hands in front of her belt. She twirled her key ring on her index finger and smirked. "Face down, ass up. I remember."

"Yes," said Maura, shivering to herself at the memory. "You know, it's your place, too, now. So if you are uncomfortable with it…"

"Nah. I'm the kid. I don't get to be uncomfortable. I just have to grin and bear it," Jane said.

"I don't think-"

"Grin and bear it, Maura, like a good catholic daughter," she said as she kissed Maura's cheek and nodded towards the elevator that would take them up and to the lobby. "Since I'm not such a good catholic daughter in other ways."

"Because you're living in sin?" Maura asked playfully as they boarded.

"Actually I think Ma doesn't mind that part. As long as she gets grandkids out of the deal in the end," Jane said, careful to avoid Maura's gaze. She opened the front doors of headquarters for Maura, hand on her back, guiding her gently through the six PM chill and toward Jane's civilian vehicle.

"Will she?" Maura asked.

"Will she what?" Jane replied obtusely. She turned the heater dial all the way up and stuck her hands directly on the vents.

"Will she get grandkids out of the deal?" Maura reiterated, unwilling to retreat.

"Maybe, eventually," said Jane, smiling kindly but also conveying the end of that particular avenue of conversation. "If you're good."

Maura scoffed. "You better hurry or I'm going to freeze my eggs."

"Freeze away, baby," Jane said gamely as she pulled away from the curb. "Do you think Lydia chews with her mouth open? I picture her as chewing with her mouth open."

Maura couldn't help but giggle at that. "Jane," she admonished, but her heart wasn't in it. She crossed her legs in her seat as Jane weaved them through city traffic toward Beacon Hill, her vibrant blue trousers the only true pop of color in Jane's all black interior. "You need to at least pretend to be nice tonight. Our seeing TJ might depend on it."

"Yeah yeah, I know," she said. "But if she hits on me or Frankie again, I'm out. Can't do it."

Maura made a face. "I agree. She better not."

Jane smirked proudly and patted Maura's knee with her non-driving right hand. "Her ma's coming, too. She's nuts." Maura had nothing nice to say, so she said nothing. "They don't really seem to get along that well either," noted Jane.

"No, they really don't. I think her mother has experienced a lot of trauma in her life and that's how she deals with it," Maura said sympathetically.

"Speakin' of, you haven't heard from Hope, have you?" Jane asked as the thought popped into her mind.

Maura froze for a split second at the name, but then gathered herself. "No, thankfully. I wouldn't really know what to do if I had to deal with that and this."

They pulled onto Maura's street just then, and Jane cut the engine. "Yeah, that would be a lot. Hang on," she said, and trotted over to the other side. Her hands were rigid, fingers almost unnaturally apart, but she opened Maura's door and held one of them out for her anyway.

Maura took it and rose out of her seat deftly, silently conceiving of a treatment plan for Jane's aching hands as she walked to her own front door. "Now, let's help _your_ mother with the food."

* * *

The doorbell rang, and all of the Rizzolis inside the home, even the honorary one, stopped what they were doing to stare at it. Angela took a deep breath and straightened her shirt. She looked at her children and pushed her hands down the imbue all of them with calm. She grasped the handle, and then opened the door slowly. "Hello," she said.

Lydia and her mother stood outside with TJ. "Hi."

Angela turned to the older woman. "Nice to finally meet you in person." They shook hands.

"I don't know how to apologize enough for all that I've put you through," Lydia whispered to Angela, holding TJ tight to her to keep from openly crying.

Her mother chuckled nervously. "What about me?" she asked.

"You too," said Lydia, her voice strained and stilted, as if she didn't mean it.

"Ok," said Angela, "let's start fresh." TJ cooed in agreement, it seemed, and then they made their way to where Jane and Tommy stood just inside the living room.

Maura, slicing the cooled lasagna Angela had pulled out of the oven not twenty minutes before, smiled at the two women entering her home. "We are so glad that you could join us for dinner," she said kindly, if a little impersonally.

"Yeah, what are we having?" asked Lydia's mother. "I don't like spicy." Lydia sighed and the Rizzoli family made a collective decision to ignore the comment, communicated only by eye contact and the subtle upturn of their eyebrows. "Think you're gonna like bein' called Grandma?" she said as she looked to Lydia and TJ, correcting course.

"By Tommy Jr.? Yeah, I think I'm gonna like it," Angela admitted breathily, smiling without inhibition at the baby.

"I like getting another shot at this," Lydia's mother agreed, "But I didn't do so bad with Lydia, did I?" she asked her daughter privately.

Angela ducked her head at the tension between them. "This baby provides us an opportunity to, uh… start new," she said to them.

Jane stepped forward, rubbing her sore hands together and looking longingly at TJ. "Yeah. And if you, you get tired or you need to go to bathroom or anything, I'd be happy to hold Tommy Jr.," she said to Lydia.

"Oh, TJ. Here," Lydia offered him already to Jane, "he likes it when you mush him against your breasts."

Jane barely got to indulge in the happiness of holding TJ before she shot a _did she just say that?_ Look to Maura, who only covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"I bet he does. I still like that," Tommy said and Frankie groaned.

"Tommy, Jesus," he said, snapping salad tongs at him before tossing them in the salad bowl on the counter.

"What?" Tommy asked. Frankie only shook his head.

"What do you do for a living?" Lydia's mother asked Tommy.

"Uh, lots of things."

"Yeah," she laughed, "that means you don't do nothin'. Oh well, at least your Ma's nice."

"Tommy's a good guy," Frankie said, in defense of the brother he had just chastised.

"Yeah, he is," Angela agreed.

"And I just want to say… I'm here for TJ," Tommy promised, standing with all his Rizzoli height just up against Lydia, who leaned forward to take him in.

"Yeah, we all are," Jane stepped forward, too, completing their triangle with TJ in her arms and gazing intently at Lydia, hoping to convey the entirety of her passion for her nephew and all the loyalty that brought.

It all seemed to have worked because Lydia put a hand to her chest. "Oh, my gosh," she said, overcome and a little shaky between them.

"You said you wanted the baby to be around family. For better or worse, we're family," reiterated Jane, smiling her closed-lip, eyes-crinkled smile, the one that no one she'd met so far had been able to refuse. Her brothers, her girlfriend, and her mother laughed a knowing laugh at her statement, but Lydia didn't. She was too busy trying to soak up all of Jane and Tommy that she could before they had to break.

It was her own mother that ended up ending it. "You're still not gettin' out of child support," she warned Tommy.

"Mom," Lydia scolded her harshly.

Maura, who had let Lydia have her moment, was quite done. "Shall we all sit down and eat?"

Jane took her cue and handed Angela the baby. She trotted over to the kitchen so that she could grab the salad bowl and utensils. "Try not to murder TJ's mom, a'right? Now that he's here and all," she said under her breath. "It's in all of our best interest if she likes us."

Maura banished her darker thoughts of possession and smirked instead. "She only loves you because you make her. Just now, you weren't exactly an innocent bystander."

"Well, that was more about TJ than Lydia. But just think how much fun we're gonna have at Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Year's… At least TJ's gonna be a Red Sox fan."

Maura kissed Jane quickly, but softly and for everyone to see. "Oh, I'd like to teach him how to fence."

"Oh hell no," Jane made a face.

"What do you mean? Is it because it's a sport you don't know? I could teach you first."

"It's because it's the bougiest sport there is! Can we just get through this meal?" she pleaded, and then turned to the patchwork family before her, all gathered at the table. "A'right. Who's hungry?"


	24. Chapter 24

"Ok, explain it again," Jane perched herself on one of the stools at the kitchen island, legs bent high at the knee with her long feet on the footrest, and her hands pushing down between her legs on the seat. Her face was pulled forward in concentration while Maura pointed to the diagram on her computer screen with a pen. "Like I'm five."

Maura nodded. "How much of that did you get? Explain it back to me and then I'll fill in the gaps for you."

Jane scratched the back of her head and sighed. "Ok. So, genetic parent," she said as she tapped on one of the icons on the flow chart Maura had prepared for her, "that'd be me."

"Correct," Maura said.

"And birth parent, that'd be you," Jane continued. "So they pump us full of hormones and then when our cycles magically align," she teased as she made a wide, sweeping motion with her arms toward the ceiling, "they take my egg out, fertilize it, then stick it in you."

"More or less, yes. You got it!" Maura replied, smiling brightly. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"I am more than willing to cede the 'smartest person in the room' title to you, Maura," Jane said. "Because we all know that's true."

"Well, I won't correct you. But if I weren't around, you would definitely still hold the title in most rooms. And any room we're in together, you're usually 'second smartest person' by far," Maura told her.

"You don't have to pet my ego. I'm already here for the long haul." Jane smirked when Maura sighed at her bravado and skipped a few slides ahead. "You know, of course you would make a slideshow about this."

"Well, last night you asked me how it would potentially work. And since it was one in the morning and I was too sleepy to answer you in depth, I figured that I owed you this."

"Sorry for wakin' you. Insomnia rears its ugly head every now and again," Jane said quietly.

"It's ok," Maura was quiet, too. "I wasn't sleeping very well, either." Her eyes were more downcast than they should've been, and she tapped her fingers against her lips as she returned to her computer screen.

Then the doorbell rang.

"It's ragin' outside," Jane said, getting up from her seat. "Who's here?"

Maura shrugged in the best fake nonchalance she could. When Jane opened the door, Tommy walked inside with TJ in a baby bjorn under a poncho, and a UPS package in his hand. "Signed for your package, Maura," he said, setting it on the hall table.

Jane knew something was off before it hit the wood. "Somethin's goin' on," she said. Maura avoided her gaze. "Uh-huh. UPS boxes. That's your tell, Maura. What happened?"

"Let's just get back to this," Maura motioned her over.

"It's Hope, isn't it?" Jane asked, and then Maura groaned.

"How did you know? Yes, ok? She e-mailed me," she said, standing and huffing, before worrying the ring on her right hand.

"She want your kidney still?" asked Tommy, pulling his poncho off.

"Yeah, for Cailin," Jane said her name in a fake voluptuous voice, smirking with malice as she talked.

"I haven't responded," Maura sighed. "I don't know what to say."

Tommy handed her the baby to calm her. Jane patted him on the back for somehow always knowing what to do. "Ya don't owe her anything, a'right? It's not your fault that she's your biological mother just as much as it's not her fault that you're her biological daughter. And, that didn't sound right, sorry," she said. "You know what I mean."

Maura laughed sadly and kissed the side of TJ's head. She bounced him on her hip and took comfort in the smell of him bundled in a sweater and a knit cap. "TJ, promise me you'll talk exactly like your father and your Aunt Jane when you grow up. I love that sound."

Both Jane and Tommy blushed and shared a timid glance. "You should say, 'I like both my kidneys,'" said Jane, bringing their conversation back around.

"Yeah. And 'have a nice life,'" Tommy piped up, unclipping the bjorn from his torso. "Fuck them, Maura. We got enough family to share with you. You don't need that negativity."

"Sounds about right," Jane said. "So why are you here? With TJ? In the rain."

"Babysittin'," Tommy replied.

"I think when you're the father, they call it parenting," Jane quipped, "did he need to be walked out there?"

"He's fine, he likes the fresh air. I take him for walks when he can't sleep. Fair warning, I texted Ma I'd be in the main house like five minutes ago." Jane startled at the news and slammed the screen of Maura's laptop down. Tommy watched her, intrigued. "What was that for? What were you lookin' at, huh?"

"Something medical," Maura offered for Jane before she got herself in trouble. Sure enough, as soon as she said it, Angela walked in the back door. Maura handed her the baby.

"Oh, come here, sweetheart," Angela cooed at TJ, "Oh, you're gettin' so big. You know, your daddy loved to play out in the rain when he was a little boy."

"Sure did," said Tommy.

Jane squeezed her mother's shoulder, leaned against the lip of the counter right next to Maura and looked at her brother. "So how's Lydia?" she felt obligated to ask.

"She's good. I think she's gonna get a promotion at the Penny Saver," Tommy responded, a shy smile on his face when he talked about her.

"Good, good. I'm glad," Jane said. Maura regarded her, the way she folded her arms, talked to her brother in their own dialect, inquired about Lydia despite her distaste for the woman. Jane looked like a parent already, a good one, and Maura swallowed to keep herself from staggering. How had Jane managed to be superior than all four of her parents combined, and yet have no children of her own?

The ringing of both of their phones broke the moment. "Ah shit. I wanted to go to bed early," Jane whined, and suddenly she was child-like again as she stamped her foot in front of Maura. "Rizzoli," she answered glumly.

"Dr. Isles," Maura answered, too, and then they were off.

* * *

Jane and Maura both entered the community theater at Storrow Center in wet trenchcoats, Jane's all black and Maura's a vibrant green. Korsak waved them over to where he stood in one of the aisles. "Looks like an accident with a prop gun," he said as they approached, nodding towards the body on the stage - a young man lying supine with his left hand far above his head and his chest all bloody.

Jane scrutinized him from afar. "Who pulled the trigger?"

"His costar," Korsak answered.

Maura, however, had her eyes on a man in a tailored Armani suit in one of the rows of seats, comforting the director of the play. "Is that Roger Duluth? Jane, that's our councilman," she said, tugging at Jane's sleeve.

"Yeah, his wife was directing a community-theater play here. He got her the space because he's apparently pals with the developer of the Storrow center," said Korsak, with a little smile at the way so many politicians, big and small, called in favors.

Maura seemed to understand the process well, however. "The potholes on our street are out of control. Maybe I'll just mention it to him." She started to make her way to him even as he held his distraught wife in his arms.

Jane curled her back around with an arm to the small of her back. "Or maybe we'll just go look at the body first… and it's not officially _our_ street until my condo is off the market and in someone else's hands."

Maura trotted quickly to keep up with Jane's long strides until they met Frost on the stage. "Hey. I couldn't talk to the woman who pulled the trigger," he said when he saw them. "Jennifer Johnson, 29. EMTs are taking her to Boston General. She's being treated for shock."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, I'd be in shock, too, if I fired a pretend gun and killed my costar. Who was in charge of the prop gun."

"Victim. He was the star, lighting designer, and prop master," said Frost.

"Well, it's community theater… they're all volunteers," Maura commented as she kneeled toward the decedent. She pulled back his shirt to examine his chest. "That's odd. Look at these entrance wounds."

Jane peeked over Maura's head toward the mottled flesh. Korsak had caught up with them and now stood at the victim's head. "Wounds, plural? That's bizarre. It kind of looks like a cheese grater," he said.

"Mm," Maura agreed easily, but distractedly. She pressed the wound lightly with her gloved fingers.

"Maybe he forgot to clean the prop gun. Or left cotton wadding in it? It hardly seems enough to kill him, though," said Jane.

Maura stood, and put a wrist against Jane's chest for balance, having stood up too quickly on her heels. She kept it there for a few moments, Jane letting her linger. "I need to dissect his heart to know what caused this injury."

Jane accepted this and patted Maura's shoulder. Maura motioned for the techs on scene to bag the body and take it to the morgue, and Jane stepped away to let them. "Did you check the other blanks?"

"Just about to," said Korsak, "that's his prop cart over there."

"His real job was maintaining this building and the rest of Storrow center. I'm having his truck towed to the evidence garage," Frost chimed in.

"Anybody else have access to the tool box?" Jane asked him.

"I'll check," said Frost, pulling out his tablet and walking over to the owner of the building.

"Well, looks like a tragic accident, but I'd rather be sure," Jane said to Korsak. "Sucks to have such an awful thing happen in a brand new place like this."

"Sure does," Korsak agreed. "Storrow Center's been all over the news the past few months. Can't imagine ownership will be too happy when all this negative press comes out."

"No kidding," said Jane, motioning a CSRU tech to her so that he could begin showing her pictures of the scene. "I'll text you if I find out anything interesting at the autopsy tomorrow morning."

* * *

Jane had descended into the bowels of BPD headquarters hoping for more information on their victim, but stopped short of bursting through the autopsy suite doors in order to take Maura in. She had her hair pulled back into a utilitarian ponytail, and Jane liked this. Jane liked Maura's three-hundred dollar haircut, too, when it was down and styled and smelled like heaven, but Maura at work titillated her. Jane also liked the way the spinous processes of Maura's vertebrae popped against her black scrubs, and she wasn't sure how, but it looked like authority. So did the way that Maura wielded a scalpel against the skin of a body, and the way the hairs on her arms glistened under the lights, undulating with the rise and dip of her muscles in motion.

It hit her then, as she spied on Maura through the round peephole, that she was sleeping with the Chief Medical Examiner of the entire commonwealth. Maura was her best friend, too, the person she was closest to, but when Jane watched her command a wicked combination of anatomical proficiency and fine motor movement, she gulped. Maura was powerful. Maura was rich. Maura was a medical doctor, for Christ's sake. And she still wanted to fall into bed with Jane every night.

Jane was then overcome with need to see her up close.

Maura knew she had entered her domain without having to look up. "Hi, baby. You know, I wish it was still raining. The sound is so peaceful," she said, eyes trained solely on the heart tissue in her hands. She walked it over to a sterile table where she could cut it open.

"Rain makes me sleepy. I never want to get out of bed on a rainy day," Jane offered, still on the other side of the room, but inching closer.

Maura's jaw tensed as she palpated the heart. "You don't really want to get out of bed on regular days," she said distractedly.

"Only when you're in the bed," Jane said, hoping to catch Maura's eyes. When Maura didn't turn, she tried something more direct. "Maura. Look at me."

"Yes?" Maura asked, heart still in her hands.

"You're too good for me," Jane said seriously.

"What?"

"You. You're too good for me. You're hot and rich and smart. God you're so fucking smart. Why on Earth do you want to be with me?" Jane asked, practically running to close the distance between them. She could smell Maura and she could smell blood.

Maura was confused, rightly so. She shrugged. "Because you're hot and smart. You're not rich, but that doesn't matter because I'm rich enough for the both of us," she said jokingly, hoping her smile would ratchet down Jane's intensity.

That intensity only burgeoned. "Maura," was all that Jane said. It was an admonishment and a plea all at once.

Maura sighed, and put the heart back on the table. Then she removed her gloves. "You are interesting, you are talented, you are competent. You are also very good looking. Those things all play a role, I suppose. But the reason, above all others, that I want to be with you, is because no one else loves me like you do. No one else has ever loved me like you do. You always put me first, whether by shooting a bullet through your own body to save my life, or agreeing to order the quinoa because you know that I like it and seeing you eat it would make me happy. In fact, I can fully admit that you spoil me. You give me whatever I want, in the moment that I want it. I think that's partly why I was so upset with you when you shot Paddy - I was so used to you making me priority number one that when you didn't… it was jarring."

"I like to make you happy," said Jane. "And I promise I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep you."

Maura smiled, and tugged on the front of Jane's white t-shirt, a little loose at the abdomen when she pinched it. "I know," she said. "No one fucks me like you do, either, for the record. That's another reason I want to be with you."

Jane blushed at Maura's rare profanity. "No one else better be fuckin' you, period, Maura," she said, pure Bostonian even through gritted teeth.

Maura shrugged. "They're not. But even before you, there was no one as good. And I am still trying to figure out why," she mused, eyes suddenly toward the ceiling in thought, in inquiry. "I've dated doctors before, so it's not like you have a superior knowledge base when it comes to anatomy and physiology. I think it may go back to the spoiling. You do it in bed, too."

"Maybe it's good because I love you. Because I care about you so damn much," Jane said, now flush up against Maura and whispering against the side of her head.

Maura rocked that head back and forth, considering this hypothesis. "Ah. The Boston Kama Sutra principle," she teased, pulling back and winking.

Jane chuckled and Maura felt it boom against her ribcage as it radiated from Jane's. "Frankie should have never told you about that."

Maura wrapped herself around Jane, then, finally. "I'm glad he did - the anthropological implications are quite interesting. I also think it's good because you're very in shape. You have impressive stamina. An athlete's stamina."

Jane stiffened. "We gotta stop talkin' about this," she said, putting an arm's length between the two of them. "Or I'm gonna get too… worked up at work."

"Ok, but you brought it up," Maura replied, turning back to the muscle on her slab and donning a new pair of gloves..

"You brought it up!"

"In response to your question! Wait," Maura stopped mid-slice and motioned Jane to her. "This is odd."

Jane settled behind her and looked over her shoulder. "What?" Maura applied pressure to the incision, and three metal balls fell onto the table. "What are those? BBs?"

Maura shook her head. "Larger, denser. Possibly ball bearings."

Jane hummed, put her thumbs in her belt. "Either way, Mr. Fix-it wouldn't load steel balls into his prop gun, unless he was committing suicide."

"It could be," Maura said. "You should have Sergeant Korsak help you check all the blanks to see if any of them had ball bearings as well."

"Yeah, I should. Thanks," said Jane. "Be there for me when we do? I need that big brain of yours to catch anything we might miss."

"Yes. I should be finished within the hour," answered Maura, inspecting valves and tissues for any other irregularities. "Come back then?"

"Yup," Jane confirmed, and then made her way back toward the double doors. "And Maura?"

"Yes?"

"No one else," she said, her long finger pointed threateningly in Maura's direction.

Maura laughed openly, and Jane winked at her on the way out.

* * *

"Maura said she found some irregularities on some of the ball bearings, but not all. I guess she's intrigued by it because ball bearings that are out-of-round can cause excessive wear and tear, but I'm not sure what that means yet for our case," Jane said to Korsak as they walked toward BRIC, where Frost punched excitedly at a keyboard inside.

"Well, hopefully it leads us somewhere since none of the other blanks had 'em," he replied. "Now let's see what the kid's got." Frost waved them in and tossed his head in the direction of the screens at the front of the room. Korsak whistled. "Jennifer and Ryan weren't just costars in a play."

"Costars in real life, too," said Jane, scanning the facebook photos of a happy couple and trying to ascertain how they ended up where they did. "Maybe that's why she was hospitalized for shock."

"Yeah, or she needed to disappear in a hurry before we could start asking her questions," Frost reasoned. "Check out this text Ryan sent to her yesterday morning: 'I'm on a mission to get over you.'"

"What happened?" asked Jane.

"From what I read, it looks like she broke up with him, and he… didn't take it very well," he responded. "'No point in being alive without you.'"

"Well, either it was suicide by girlfriend, or she killed him. Let's talk to some of those other actors," Jane said to Korsak, leaving Frost on his own again.

* * *

"It's nice that Lydia is breast-feeding him," Angela, wiping down a table for Tommy and TJ to sit at, found it easier to compliment Lydia these days. "So much healthier."

"Plus, it's obvious why he likes it so much," Tommy said, smirking as he fed his baby.

"What does that mean?" Angela looked at him, expecting to be shocked or wowed.

"If I'm gonna feed it to him, I gotta try it, right?" He said, and Angela's expectations were fulfilled. She rolled her eyes at her youngest.

"You hungry? You want somethin' to eat? Cafe's kind of in a lull right now, I can make you breakfast," she offered him anyway.

He smiled. "Sure, Ma. That'd be great."

Angela, as she patted his arm, surveyed her surroundings. A few patrons straggled behind, but midmorning between the breakfast and lunch rushes was quiet. Even more so in the springtime, when it was beginning to warm out and the sun stayed up just a bit longer. She loved April in Boston, even if it meant a reduction in paying customers. She looked out to the lobby, intending to indulge in the bright rays of the sun as they played upon the buffed linoleum, but was taken aback by what she saw instead.

Dr. Hope Martin looked back at her, walking slowly towards the cafe entrance.

"Excuse me one minute, baby," Angela said to Tommy, and then motioned for Hope to take a seat. She looked stunning as she always did, today in a floral patterned wrap-around dress and a black trench coat. "Hope, how are you?"

"I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time," said Hope timidly, sitting across from Angela, but still worrying the straps of the purse on her shoulder.

"No, no. I was just taking a quick break to visit with my son and grandson," Angela answered. She patted Hope's forearm gently.

"Well, it's nice to see you," Hope said.

Angela cut through the niceties. "I'm glad you two are seeing each other again."

"So, Maura told you?" Hope asked, half despondent and half hopeful.

"Told me what?"

"Oh, uh… Well, I have been… emailing her, but she hasn't responded."

Angela sighed. "Well, she didn't tell me much, but I know that you didn't leave on good terms."

"I was, uh, so shocked," Hope said, tears already coming. "And I… I didn't react well. I've never in my life been as surprised as when a grown woman told me that she… is the baby I thought died at birth."

Angela nodded, the pieces of the picture before her coming together. "How's Cailin doing?"

Hope smiled brightly, but falsely. "She's doing very well."

"I know this isn't my business," said Angela, "although, Maura? Maura is my business." She tapped against her heart as she said Maura's name, herself near tears, too. "Did you come here to ask her to…"

"Yes," Hope answered. "I came to see if she is still willing to donate one of her kidneys to Cailin."

"Hey, Tommy," Angela called to her son. "Come here. Bring me TJ." He walked over and dutifully handed her the baby. "Honey, this is Hope Martin. Maura's birth mother."

Tommy stiffened. He had never met her, but he had heard the stories. He pulled his lips back in a gesture that barely passed for a smile, and nodded to her. He didn't hold his hand out. "Tommy Rizzoli," he said as his only greeting.

"It's nice to meet you, Tommy. You look very much like Jane," Hope said in the best small talk that she could muster. He shrugged as if to agree. "And you have a beautiful baby."

"You know," Angela said to bring Hope's attention back to her, "I would do anything for any one of my children and for this baby. So, no one - no one - can blame you for wanting to save Cailin."

Tommy had to admit that, with TJ now here, he felt his mother's statement stir within him. He looked at Hope, who cried anew, but smiled genuinely this time. "Thank you," she said quietly, and he smiled sadly at her for the first time, too.

* * *

"Can you scan for depression?" Jane, just having been deep in thought, asked Maura.

Maura stopped working through the top drawer of the decedent's tool box. "Are you depressed?"

"Only when you ask me that…" Jane teased, "No. I meant him." She pointed toward the body on Maura's table under a crisp, white sheet. "I mean, something's hinky here."

"That's not a scientific term," Maura said warmly. "And no, there isn't a scan, per se. Though chronic depression can alter how the brain looks on neuroimaging."

"I just don't feel right about the suicide theory," Jane said distractedly as she bent down to rummage through the bottom drawer of the box. When she pulled a large plastic bag full of concrete out of it, she raised one eyebrow. "What is this? Why does he have concrete in his toolbox?"

Maura looked down and smiled. "I am so glad you said concrete and not cement," she said happily, "too many people think it's the same thing when cement is actually a component of concrete."

"Thanks," said Jane sarcastically. "But why is he saving it?" she emptied the bag, finding other objects as well. "And why is he saving a broken fluorescent light bulb, a copper pipe, and a bent anchor bolt?"

"Well, maybe he needs to purchase more."

"Yeah, but it looked like he was hiding it," she reached back to the drawer and pulled out a manila envelope with a post-it affixed to the front. "'Creep? Epoxy. Recycled?' That's a strange list." When she pulled out the contents of the envelope, she hummed. "Oh. He xeroxed some plans."

"Well, he was in charge of maintenance for all three buildings. It makes sense that he had building plans," Maura said, leaning over to watch as Jane laid out the plans on some available desk space.

"What do you think that means?" Jane asked. She pointed to a crudely drawn bar with the label "P3" on it, next to plans of the parking garage for the Storrow Center.

Maura went toward her buzzing phone before she could answer the question. "Oh my god," she gasped as she read the text message again. "Oh my god. It's your mother."

Jane awaited more information expectantly, but it never came. "Oh my god," she finally teased. "That _is_ frightening. She find your little powerpoint from yesterday afternoon?"

"No. It's _my_ mother, Hope. She's in the cafe. What is she doing here?" Maura put her hand to her neck in an attempt to self-soothe.

"She came to get ya kidney?" Jane asked brightly.

"Stop," Maura warned, her eyes harsh but also desperate. "Can you please go talk to her?"

"What?" Jane's incredulity started out strong, but the way Maura looked so small, so needy, so set adrift, diminished it. "I… why do I have… she's your… relative," she stammered, already one step toward the elevator back up to the lobby.

"Oh no," said Maura, "she rejected me. She said that I wasn't her daughter."

Jane went from resigned obedience to rage very quickly. She remembered; she was there. "But then she remembered she needed your kidney for her _real_ daughter, Cailin!" she said it in an exaggerated, female Californian, the worst insult she could muster.

"I don't want to talk to her," Maura said, feeling emboldened by Jane's defense of her, but then gradually deflated. "But… I can't keep ignoring her. It's rude."

"Babe, you know what's rude?" Jane asked, leaning one arm against the tapletop nearest Maura and slinging the other over the tools on her belt. "Callin' you a liar in your own home. Sayin' you're not her daughter. Accusin' us of runnin' a grift. All that shit is rude. If you don't wanna talk to her, you have every right. But if you really feel bad, then tell that bitch to make an appointment."

Maura smiled despite her calamity. She patted Jane's cheek softly. "Good idea. I told you that you're very smart," she said, taking her phone into the autopsy suite where it was more private.

Jane stood alone amongst all the evidence they had just found. "But what about all this? No? All right."

* * *

Not even an hour later, Maura exited the crime lab to find Hope Martin waiting for her in one of their few lobby chairs. "Dr. Martin! Didn't you get my message? I'm very busy today," she managed to say, and to her credit, she _was_ verybusy.

"Yes, I did," said Hope, standing and following Maura, "but I would really like to talk to you."

Maura sighed as they entered her office. She dropped the file she had been holding onto the top of her desk and planted her knuckles on it authoritatively. "What do you want to talk about?"

Hope stepped forward. "When we met, I said that I felt a strange kinship with you."

Maura winced. "You also, uh, said that conceiving me was the biggest mistake of your life," she said as she banished tears and gathered up some resolve.

"I'm sorry that I said that. Maura, I had no idea," Hope sighed as well, closed her eyes. "Paddy told me that our baby died. And I visited the grave," she said, and to her credit, perhaps that would have been a convincing reason to believe your child was dead, to visit their grave.

But Maura needed more. She punched in a few keywords on her desktop and then turned the monitor toward her mother. "You're really trying to tell me that you've never seen any of this? Paddy Doyle's capture was international news," she said, and sure enough, there was a Boston Globe article with color pictures of herself next to pictures of Patrick Doyle.

Hope shuddered. "I closed the door on that part of my life," she said, eyes glancing away from Maura and the computer screen.

"Well, at least your 18 year old had the guts to confront me," Maura spat. "You just denied your life. The Harvard girl who got seduced by the… the evil thug. And then you ran."

Hope seemed like she had so much to say in response, but all that came out was "I'm… very sorry."

Maura scoffed. "I had this… this stupid little-girl fantasy that when we met, you'd be… everything that you are. But you'd want me. You'd be very happy to know that I was alive."

"I reacted badly," Hope said quietly.

"Badly? You accused me of lying. You told me that I wasn't your daughter. I actually think that you asked me what I wanted from you."

"Yes, I did," Hope admitted easily.

Maura stiffened, and the anger rose in her until it bubbled up and she couldn't hide the wetness of her voice anymore. "And now you're back. Do you see Paddy Doyle when you look at me? Do you see evil?"

Hope put her hand to her heart, stunned. "No," she said emphatically, "and I saw so much good in your father-"

"Paddy Doyle's not my father," Maura interrupted her. "My father was a professor at Harvard, too. Same as my mother, to whom Paddy gave me after he lied to you."

"I… I loved him," Hope lamented. "And he was the… still is… the most complicated, intelligent, damaged human being that I've ever met."

Maura's insides roiled at her defense of him, at everything about Hope. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"Cailin," Hope answered definitively.

"Well, I know what I should do. I should give you my kidney to save your daughter," Maura said, and the solemnity of her statement shook her voice. "But I am your daughter, too."

Hope, who had also been able to hold back tears until this moment, began to cry. "I know that I have no right to ask you," she said, the pleading at the end going unsaid.

Maura raged again at the idea that only when Hope thought about Cailin could she cry. "You don't," she said coldly, "I think you should go."

Hope gaped at her, frozen in shock, but Maura did not budge. She turned her back, and her mother was left with no other option but to obey.

Once she left, Maura cried, too.


	25. Chapter 25

Frost and Korsak, fresh from examining their victim's vehicle, entered the squad room to see Jane typing away at her computer, alternating harsh stares between the information on her monitor and the envelope she had found in Ryan's toolbox. "Guess what we found," Frost said giddily as he strode up to her desk.

"What? No, I was gonna say that," Jane protested with her arms out at her sides.

Frost winked at her and held up another large bag with a piece of concrete in it. "Found this in the victim's glove box."

Jane frowned. "That's weird. I found this in the victim's toolbox," she said, holding up her own bigger piece.

Korsak nodded thoughtfully. "We matched that chunk of concrete that Frost is holding with this nasty dent in the hood of Ryan's pickup," he said, showing Jane the picture of the victim's truck.

"Ryan filed an insurance claim three days ago. His report said, 'A loose chunk of concrete dropped from the ceiling of the garage at work and caused this damage,'" said Frost.

Jane stood up and inspected their concrete. "Frost, can you pull up articles on the construction of the Storrow center?"

"Sure," he replied.

"Ok, so we've got concrete that's fallen on Ryan's truck, concrete debris that he hid in his toolbox, xeroxed plans for the Storrow center… what's that say to you?" Jane turned to Korsak.

"Well, his fellow thespians said he was complaining about all the maintenance work he had to do," Korsak answered.

"Which makes no sense. The Storrow center's basically brand new," said Frost, "tenants only started moving in eight months ago. The guy who built it, Sam Nelson, already pocketed a billion dollars from its opening."

Jane looked at the article that Frost had pulled up and showed to them. "Says here he already has four more contracts for city buildings, plus a mall and an office park."

Korsak looked between Jane and Frost. "You think maybe Ryan was the mosquito buzzing around him, complaining about chunks of concrete and busted lights?"

"Maybe," said Jane. "Although, look at this post-it I found," she pointed to the three items on it. "My father used to complain all the time about creep."

Frost snickered. "The ones you were dating?"

"Ha ha," Jane snarked as she glared at him playfully. "Turns out he was the creep this whole time."

Frost nodded knowingly. "Mine too."

Jane chuckled. "No, but Ryan saved anchor bolts with dried epoxy."

"He wrote epoxy on that post-it." Korsak examined the envelope, turned it over in his hand.

"Ok, so creep can happen over time. The concrete cracks, the anchor bolts pull out, and the pipes burst. My father hated being blamed when the pipes burst from creep."

"Maybe Ryan was finding problems with the Storrow center buildings. Sam Nelson would want to cover that up. Billion dollars at stake all for a maintenance guy to come in and ruin it?" Frost theorized.

Korsak shrugged his shoulders. "What, enough to kill one of his employees? Maybe."

Frost got up from his chair and started to put his badge and his phone back on his belt.

"What? Where are you going?" Korsak asked him.

"The Storrow center. It's not far."

"We don't have enough to even say hi to this guy, and you know he's got a stadium full of lawyers."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, we show our cards now, we'll never get him."

Frost rolled his eyes. "Will you guys relax? I'm just gonna snoop around in the public areas. Take some pictures with my phone."

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but then she saw her brother burst through the doors of BRIC. "Jane, can you give Tommy and the baby a ride home? Ma got caught up," said Frankie, looking as though he knew what an inconvenience it was.

Jane let him know anyway. "What? Why can't you?"

Frankie sighed. "I'm fillin' out paperwork."

Jane scoffed and waved to the myriad of evidence and files on her desk. "Oh yeah, I don't have anything to do."

Frost smirked at the both of them. "I can drop them off after I take the photos."

"Really? " Jane asked, hopeful but not expectant. "You sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem," said Frost.

Frankie patted his shoulder. "All right. Thanks, man."

Jane pulled her buzzing phone from its holster and sighed herself. "Good, 'cause Maura needs a shoulder to cry on." She was already headed for the elevator.

"Why? What happened?" Korsak asked kindly.

"Girl stuff," Jane said flippantly as she left them.

* * *

"Maura, what are you doing?" Jane asked as she walked into the morgue.

Maura laid on one of her slabs with a pillow over her face, still in her scrubs and clogs. "Looking for the oblivion of sleep."

"So she came by anyway, huh? When you specifically asked her not to?" Jane observed.

"Yes," Maura said, muffled by the throw pillow.

"Bleedin' all over your boundaries," said Jane with an assured nod.

Maura paused. "Are you in therapy again?"

"Nope. Just picked up some stuff from last time. She's a bitch, Maura. This whole time she's been accusing you of wantin' something from from her, but she's actually the one who's out for what you've got."

"Hmm," Maura replied noncommittally. She flattened her arms at her sides.

"C'mon, you're gonna get lip gloss on your nice pillow," Jane said, taking it away from Maura's face.

Maura sighed. "I don't care."

"Sure you do. Don't you wanna get some on me instead? That'll make you feel better," Jane said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Maura scoffed, but sat up and pecked her quickly on the lips anyway. "She just showed up."

"Well, at least you got to keep your kidney," said Jane.

"No, no. It wasn't even about that. I wasn't holding my kidney hostage."

"Well, you should have been."

"I stopped being nice," said Maura, "I said what I thought. I was really mad and hurt, and I just… said it."

"Baby, that's good. That's ok, a'right? I'm proud of you," Jane responded. She put her hand on Maura's knee.

"I feel nauseous. What did I say? Why did I say it? Why… I don't even know what I said."

"Ok, ok. You're spiraling a little bit. Let's talk about something else. What about ball bearings? You like to talk about those."

"Well, I'm almost certain they came from a computer hard drive, and the lab is trying to track down the manufacturer."

"Ok, good. That's somethin'. Listen, I'm gonna have a working lunch and talk to Ryan's fiancee again," said Jane, confident that Maura was soothed enough to at least be left alone. "Call me when you get something?"

"Of course, Jane," Maura said dejectedly, holding her pillow tight to her chest as she sat perched on her slab.

* * *

"Well, shit. There's nowhere to park," Frost grumbled as he drove through the Storrow Center's parking garage on the ground floor, P3.

Tommy snorted. With a glance to the backseat where TJ sat, he said, "you're a cop. You can park anywhere, man."

Frost laughed to himself. "Yeah. Yeah, why not? I'll only be a minute," he pulled up to the end of the lane and turned on his hazards. When he stepped out, TJ let out a piercing wail.

Tommy turned back again, grabbing his son's small hand and squeezing it. TJ couldn't see him because the car seat faced the rear windshield, but the touch itself seemed to pacify him. At least somewhat. "Ok, all right, TJ. You're gonna be ok. Frost's gonna be done here soon and then we'll be home."

Frost had made it almost all the way around the perimeter of the ground floor, snapping photos of anything he thought might look like disrepair or signs of creep, and had ended up back at the car where a suspicious crack ran along the floor above all the way to the parking booth. He thought he heard a heavy groan, too, but dismissed it quickly as his overactive imagination, colored by his suspicion that Storrow center construction had cut corners.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" A man in an Armani suit, nicely tailored and very European, shouted at Frost as soon as he noticed him with his cell phone out. "Who said you could take pictures here?"

Even in the sallow garage light, Frost immediately recognized him as Sam Nelson, builder extraordinaire and the architect of the entire Storrow complex. "Easy, Mr. Nelson. Boston Police."

Nelson sneered. Apparently _Boston Police_ wasn't good enough. "Do you have a warrant?" he asked, approaching quickly, his own phone in his hand ready to dial. "Otherwise, I want you off my property now." There was another buckling sound, unmistakable now.

Frost held up his hands. "This part of Storrow center is open to the public, sir." He took inventory of his surroundings, cursing to himself when Tommy got out of the car.

Again, though, Frost's answer wasn't satisfying to Nelson, and he figured that for a rich, white guy like him, it probably would never be. "All right. I'm gonna call my attorney."

"Damn," Tommy said, staring at the two of them. "Everything ok out here, Frost?"

"I got it, Tommy, th-" Frost stopped himself when the lights above them flickered. The ground below them started to shake, in a state where an earthquake shouldn't even be possible. "Oh my god," he exclaimed as he realized what was happening.

"What the hell?" Tommy said, and then a chunk of concrete fell between them and Nelson.

It escalated in an instant. Concrete plummeted around them. And then, sickeningly, a giant piece crunched the top of Frost's unmarked. "TJ!" both he and Frost screamed before most of the floor above them rained down, trapping them inside.

* * *

Jane sat in Jennifer Johnson's living room on a low-seated sofa, elbows on knees that knocked occasionally against the coffee table in front of her. She listened intently as Jennifer spoke next to her.

"I didn't want to do the scene with the gun. I _told_ him that," Jennifer said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, her loose bun bouncing as she moved and cried. A mixture of tears and makeup ended up on the kleenex, but her green eyes were still sharp. Jane thought of Maura when she saw her, especially in her smart blazer and slacks, paired with black pumps.

"Were you angry with Ryan, then?" Jane asked quietly, slipping on her mask of empathy. Her eyebrows rose in concern, and she left her lips just slightly open in a show of vulnerability.

"Yes!" Jennifer hissed, as though it should have been obvious.

"What were you thinking when you pulled the trigger?" Jane put a hand on her knee and patted.

"Well," Jennifer gulped, gathering herself, "I was in character. So I was thinking about how much Ryan pisses me off."

Jane nodded. "Did Ryan show you how to load a prop gun?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't do it with my fingers. I fell and broke two knuckles," said Jennifer. She showed Jane the brace on her dominant hand.

Jane catalogued that information away. "So, Jennifer, we think it's possible that Ryan was committed suicide and he used you to do it."

Jennifer's eyes widened. "No, no way. Why… why would he kill himself? No, it was an accident. We were getting married."

"Oh," Jane said, surprised.

"He uh, he gave me this last night," Jennifer showed Jane a ring still in its box, pulling it from the coffee table. "But I… I couldn't get it on my finger."

Jane smiled warmly at the modest diamond. "Did you say yes?"

"Yes," Jennifer said, but she broke eye contact with Jane then. They were inches apart and she sought miles.

"Then why'd you break up with him?" Jane asked.

"Are you married, Detective?" Jennifer asked right back as she sniffled loudly.

"No," said Jane.

"Engaged? With someone?" pressed Jennifer.

"Yeah, there's someone," Jane said reservedly. She rubbed her hands together in nervous habit.

"Then you know how they can get on your nerves sometimes, no matter how much you love them," Jennifer said. "He was always complaining about his job. He said that there was too much to do and that he was barely breaking even with all the supplies and stuff. I got so tired of listening to him. I told him to quit."

"Was he going to?"

"I don't know. He said he had to figure something out first."

"Figure what out?" Just as Jane asked, her phone chimed with an incoming call. She looked at the caller ID, saw that it was Frankie, and quickly silenced it.

"He never said," Jennifer admitted, "I don't think-" she was cut off by Jane's phone ringing immediately after the first time.

Jane saw Frankie's name again and cursed. "Shit. I'm sorry, it's my brother."

Jennifer nodded. "Answer it. I'll wait for you."

Jane smiled in thanks. "It'll just take a second," she assured her, and then turned away to bark into her phone. "What?!"

Frankie's voice was far off and garbled on the other end. " _Jane? Jane there's been a huge collapse at the Storrow center. You gotta get down here!"_ he yelled into the receiver so loudly that Jane pulled it away from her ear.

"Calm down, Fr- wait, what?" she croaked when the reality of what he had said sunk in.

" _It's really… listen to me! That's where Tommy and Frost were, ok?"_ Frankie shouted.

Jane was already standing, patting her pockets for her car keys. "Shit, ok."

" _Just get down here, Jane!_ "

"No yeah, I'll be right there."

It was clear that Frankie couldn't hear her now, so he just repeated his command. " _Get down here, now!"_

Jane slid her phone back into its holster and turned to Jennifer. "Uh," she said, uncharacteristically rattled as Detective Rizzoli.

Jennifer stood. "What is it? Are you ok?"

Jane swirled her keyring around her finger a few times to keep the nausea at bay. "Uh, my brother and his baby, and my partner… there's been a building collapse in the back bay and they think they're trapped inside. I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna have to reschedule this interview. Stay in town, a'right? I'll call you as soon as we can meet again. Thank you for your, uh, your time." She stumbled through her explanation, but it was enough. Jennifer nodded dumbly, just watching from the couch for several seconds as Jane walked toward the door.

Just as Jane was about to swing the front door open, she regained her faculties. "Detective Rizzoli! Which building collapsed?"

Jane confirmed her worst fears. "The parking garage at the Storrow Center."

* * *

As Jane swerved her vehicle just behind the caution tape near the Storrow Center itself, sirens still screaming, she saw Captain Green of Boston Fire Department commanding his men. She threw the car in park and bolted towards him.

"Follow critical response protocol. Everybody understand? Nothing we can do about the people trapped in the subterranean parking areas right now. We evacuate everybody else first," he said to the three firefighters gathered around him. He lifted his helmet for just a moment to wipe heavy sweat from his forehead.

Jane practically barreled into him. "Captain Green!" she called out.

"Detective Rizzoli…" he answered her, surprised that Boston Homicide would be on the scene.

She looked at him and tried not to cry. "My brother and his baby and my partner are trapped in the ground parking level P3," she said, offering him facts, the only thing that could have sounded commanding out of her mouth.

Captain Green shook his head. "I'm sorry, Detective. That building is way too unstable to even think about that right now," he told her honestly as he walked away.

Jane stayed rooted in her spot. "No, but we have to go-" she tried, anxious to persuade him but knowing that he needed space to do his job. She took that moment to survey the chaos around her, cops and firefighters blitzing about, injured people in stretchers and lying on the ground, covered in dust and grime, doctors and EMTs treating the wounded before they would be transported to a hospital.

One EMT ran up to a woman in hospital issue blue scrubs and a functional blonde-brown ponytail just to Jane's left. "I've got three more with internal injuries," he said, and Jane winced at the severity of what they were dealing with.

When the doctor turned away from her patient to acknowledge him, Jane's brain pushed through the panic and recognized Maura immediately. "Ok, transport the head injury," said Maura to the EMT, and then he was off.

"Maura!" Jane yelled desperately.

Maura turned at the sound. "Jane?"

"Maura!" Jane shouted again, even though Maura had heard her. She ran the six or so strides between them, her face contorted in agony when she got there.

Maura's stomach dropped. "What is it?"

"They're - they're inside the building! Frost and Tommy and TJ and they don't want to go in because its too unstable and-" Jane, tears just about to fall now, reached for Maura's eyes with her own, searching for anything to ground her. She felt adrift.

"Oh my god. Are you sure?" Maura replied. She pushed her hand up to her forehead in shock.

Before Jane could answer, Frankie came bounding toward them covered in dust and a little bit of his own blood. "Jane! Jane!"

Jane put her hand on his shoulder and wordlessly implored him to tell her everything he knew.

"I couldn't find them," he started, still gulping in bucketfuls of air. "We were pulling out bodies a-and people with broken bones. We got as many of them as we could before they ordered us out. They're afraid that the entire building is gonna collapse."

Maura cursed. "Shit. It might. It's built from recycled concrete."

Jane whipped her head around. "What?"

"The lab results came back on the concrete samples that you found. It's recycled, ground-up concrete debris, not the more durable concrete made from hard rock."

"You're telling me this place was a ticking time bomb?" Jane growled, and Maura nodded. "Ryan's list. 'Recycled.' He knew. W-what other shortcuts did the builder take?"

Frankie chimed in. "They can't find him. Sam Nelson, the developer. He was last seen walking to his car right before the collapse."

Jane cursed, too. "Fuck. He's probably halfway to the Marshall Islands by now. Ok look, Frankie, you don't say a word to Ma, ok, until we're sure they're in there."

"Yeah, Jane," said Frankie.

The same EMT that had taken Maura's order from before came up to them again. "Dr. Isles? We've got more coming," he said quietly, standing next to Maura but looking at Jane.

Maura looked to her as well, full of indecision.

"Maura, go. Go. I'll keep you updated," Jane said, waving her away.

"Promise?" Maura asked her, stepping closer. She pulled Jane into a tight embrace.

Jane nearly collapsed, but managed to nod vigorously against Maura's shoulder. "Yeah, promise. Love you."

"I love you too," Maura replied as she squeezed. She bestowed a quick kiss against the salty moisture on Jane's lips and then she was off again.

Once she watched Maura return to triaging patients, Jane spun around and clapped Frankie on the back. "C'mon. We're goin' in there."

Frankie didn't budge, even though his sister was walking away from him. "They won't let anyone past them. I tried."

Jane scoffed. "Ok, so we try again. Come on, Frankie." she tugged his arm harder, but he yanked her back. The force of it caught her off guard and she was spun around to face him again, his hands on her shoulders.

"Jane, wait. You can't," he said, his voice breaking at the tumult in her eyes, "you just can't."

Jane broke then. The tears fell. "What if they're still alive in there?" she asked helplessly, and Frankie scooped her into his arms.

"I know. I know," he said, unable to say anything else.

* * *

The entirety of P3 was covered in rubble, rebar, and smashed cars. Lights that hadn't been destroyed in the collapse flickered ominous orange against bodies and belongings. TJ's crying rang out in an otherwise eerily quiet scene.

"Oh, TJ!" Tommy, legs buried under rock, shouted as best he could in the car's direction. He reached his arm out, but was stuck. "TJ, Daddy's right here! It's gonna be ok! You hang in there, buddy, ok? Detective Frost?"

Frost was just a few feet away with his arm encased in a concrete prison. "I'm here," he said weakly, blinking away dust and confusion. "I can't… I can't get my arm out."

"My head is killing me," Tommy said. "What does it mean when I feel like I gotta puke?"

"It means you have a head injury," said Frost.

Tommy tried valiantly to rest his head against some of the concrete behind it. The garage was silent again. "Hey. The baby's not making any noise, Barry."

Frost lifted his own head up so that he could look Tommy in the eye. "He's ok. I know he's ok. He's strong."

Tommy accepted this, and stayed quiet for several long minutes. He looked up to the broken floor above them and thought about TJ, and Lydia. "You got a girlfriend?" He asked finally.

"No," Frost answered simply.

"Are you gay?" Tommy asked again.

"No. I did have a big crush on your sister for a long time, though."

"On my sister? You mean Jane?"

Frost tried to laugh. "You got another sister? Yeah, Jane. When we were first partnered together. Then I realized that was goin' nowhere fast."

"Because she had the hots for Maura? I liked Maura," Tommy said behind a big smile.

Frost looked up towards him again. "Yeah, even then, I think she had the hots for Maura. So, that's your type, too, huh?"

"Meh," Tommy shrugged. "I like Lydia, too. If y-you could just put the two of them together, they'd be the perfect woman."

Frost smiled at Tommy's simplicity, his clarity of want. "Whatever floats your boat, man."

Tommy chuckled. "You know what I'm gonna do if we get outta here?"

Frost was genuinely in the dark. "Marry Lydia?" he guessed.

"No. I'm gonna sue the shit out of Sam Nelson," Tommy said with a deep and growling threat in his voice. Just then, as if to contribute to the foreboding, the garage shook again.

* * *

Jane and Frankie approached Captain Green again, this time armed with new information. He stood talking to councilman Duluth, who passed out styrofoam water cups with his wife to emergency responders. "Captain Green, Councilman Duluth," Jane barked, "we need to talk to you."

Captain Green stepped forward. "We're doing all we can, Detective."

Jane shook him off. "It's bad concrete."

Green was taken aback. "What?"

"The builder, Sam Nelson. He used recycled concrete. That's what caused the collapse. Our crime lab just had samples tested to confirm."

Councilman Duluth ran a hand over his slick-backed hair. "No, that wouldn't be enough to cause such a catastrophic failure," he said nervously, "I-I spoke with the structural engineers who built it. They think that it was a combination of the heavy rains and the additional stories that the developer added to building 3."

Green tried to work it out in his head. "So, maybe the vibrations from the heavy equipment and the additional pilings compromised building one?"

"Yes," answered Duluth.

"We want to go in," said Jane, no patience for the details that got them here. "Our brother and our nephew are trapped inside there."

Green stepped to her, hoping to convey as much confidence and authority that she was. "I don't want a marble rolling around in there right now. It's not a question of if that building is coming down, it's a question of when. But I promise you, if we can get enough equipment in there and shore it up, I'll go in there myself." He said to Jane with finality. He was called away just after that.

* * *

Maura stood over the body of a man on a stretcher who was nonresponsive, considerably dirtier and more ruffled than when Jane had left her. McGuire, the EMT who had formed a tenuous working relationship with her, relayed the patient's status. "Initial GCS of 5. Point tenderness at the left parietal. Internal bleeding."

Maura shook her head. "He needs to go to Beth Israel."

McGuire huffed. "I'm out of transport right now."

"Well, get a police car and get him out of here. He needs attention now," Maura ordered. She placed her stethoscope back around her neck when she heard someone else call for her.

"Dr. Isles? What can I do?" Hope Martin said, in the same hospital issued scrubs as Maura. When she noted the look of shock on Maura's face, she explained. "FEMA put out a call to all off-duty nurses and doctors in the area, so I just came as soon as I heard."

Maura nodded slowly. She tamped down on the anger she felt when she looked at Hope, and told herself that she was overwhelmed. She needed the help. "Thank you," she said politely. "Can you assess the patients over there? I think that woman has a fractured femur."

Hope pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then slipped on some latex gloves. She moved through the war zone that the Storrow Center had become with the ease of someone who had seen a war zone or two before.

Maura suddenly felt glad for that.

* * *

Jane held an iPad up close to her face as she attempted to pinpoint Korsak's face through the glare. "Nothing so far, huh? Ok, just keep looking."

Korsak's close cut gray hair swished on the screen. "I'm sorry Jane. Frost is better at this."

Jane shook her head. "You're doin' fine, ok? Just get to the P3 camera at about… maybe like 1:15 or so."

"Ok, almost there," Korsak said as he readied the tape. As it played, he gasped. "Jane, I got somethin'. Tommy and Frost are standing talking to Sam Nelson right as the building collapses."

"Shit," Jane whispered. She hung up and ran over to Captain Green for a third time. "Captain Green! I got video of my brother and my partner and Nelson in the garage before the collapse."

"That doesn't mean they're in there alive, Rizzoli," Green gruffed seriously. "I can't risk other lives."

Jane had officially lost her cool. "There's a fucking three month old baby in there! We can't just stand here!"

Green stood firm again. "I'm letting you stay out of courtesy, Detective, but if you try to go into that garage, I will put you on the other side of that barricade!"

Jane bit her tongue. She had said too much. She nodded to him and stomped away, a little broken. She dialed Korsak again. He picked up immediately. "They're not letting me in, Korsak, they won't let me try to go get them and every fucking minute out here brings down the chances that I find them alive," she said without waiting for his greeting.

"Don't give up, Jane," he said sternly.

She huffed. "I'm not, I'm not. I'm just feelin' real impotent over here."

"I get it," he replied. Then he switched the subject. "I don't know how to scan these plans," he said, holding a paper up to the camera. "Do you see that?"

"Yeah, sort of," she rotated the iPad and leaned in.

"Alright. He circled a section on P3."

"Ok…"

"This looks like an arrow. He's got a rectangle labeled 'P3 floor' and then a circle with a question mark inside."

"Maybe there's somethin' under P3."

"P3 is the lowest level."

Jane contemplated that for a second, and then turned at the sound of her name. "Jane!" Maura shouted, waving to her as she weaved through responders. Jane nodded to her and then turned back to Korsak. "The lab was able to trace the ball bearings used to kill Ryan back to 500 recalled computers," Maura said when she was able to come up next to Jane.

"Ok, baby. I'm talking to Korsak about the collapse," Jane said dismissively.

But Maura would not be dismissed. "No, listen," she said, and Jane turned dutifully, contrition in her tired eyes. "Most of those computers were purchased for city employees, including all thirteen city counselors."

Jane's eyes went from tired to wide open. She turned back to Korsak. "Korsak, find out the name of the concrete company that supplied the concrete to Sam Nelson."

"Ok, gimme a sec, gimme a sec. Koneff Concrete. Lookin' for the owner now," he said, punching a few keys on the other end of the call, "Claire Koneff Duluth."

"The wife of the councilman? Oh god," said Maura, putting her hand to her mouth.

Korsak bristled. "They put the concrete company in her name to avoid conflict of interest."

Jane hung up on him for the second time and snarled as she marched to where Councilman Duluth and Claire Duluth continued to serve tired firefighters. She waved Frankie over on her way and explained what she had just found out.

He was still too late to stop her from shoving Duluth. Hard. "Was it worth it? Huh?" she asked as she did it.

Duluth shook himself out of the stupor of being hit by her. "Sorry?"

"This," said Jane, gesturing to all the chaos around them, "all so you could pocket a few hundred thousand more?"

He sputtered. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"No? Ok, how 'bout you, Claire?" she said, swiveling so that her long index finger bore into Mrs. Duluth's shoulder. "You loaded that prop gun with ball bearings. You watched Jennifer pull the trigger. How was it watching Ryan die?"

"It was awful," Mrs. Duluth crumbled instantly. She ran a hand nervously through her long blonde hair. She was almost as tall as Jane, but she cowered under the weight of Jane's blistering rage.

The councilman waved at her harshly. "My god. Claire, don't."

Jane pushed ahead. "Ryan came to you for help because you were married to a city councilman, and he wasn't getting anywhere with the builder. Who didn't know you used recycled concrete by the way."

Claire sighed to banish a crying jag. "We had no idea that this could happen."

"Stop! Stop talking, Claire! Just stop fucking talking," Duluth pleaded with her angrily.

"We underbid the project. It wasn't all bad concrete," Claire said anyway.

"Oh yeah, just some of it," Jane scoffed. Her contempt was the stuff of legends. "You're both under arrest for the murder of Ryan Granger. And let's hope today's body count doesn't get over seven, 'cause if it does, you're both goin' down for those murders, too."

"We didn't know!" Claire shouted after Jane's retreating form, "I swear we didn't know."

Frankie, content to let Jane handle the confession, burst into action then. He snatched his handcuffs from his belt and put them on the councilman first. "Put your hands behind your back."

* * *

"Maura!" Jane, having just spoken to Korsak again, pushed through a throng of nurses and policemen to find her. "Maura!" she screamed again as soon as she spotted her. Maura looked up from the patient she had just finished bandaging, and ran to Jane.

"What's wrong?"

Jane's eyes were dark brown with audacity and fear and hope. "Korsak found a tunnel under P3. Koneff Concrete was supposed to fill it and reinforce it, but they skipped that to pocket an extra 500k."

"Is Green going to go down there?" Maura asked, now just as hopeful.

"Yeah," Jane said, nodding sheepishly. "I'm goin' down there, too."

Maura pulled away. "You can't be serious. Jane, that's extremely dangerous."

"You know I'm goin'," said Jane. "I have to go. I'm not budgin' on this."

Maura's heart broke because she knew it was true. "It's foolish. Stupid."

"I know," Jane agreed easily. "Listen. I need you to come with me."

"Jane, I'm up to my ears in people needing medical attention here. I've got at least five more patients to see just around the corner," said Maura, now confused.

"I know. I'm telling you to commit a dereliction of duty here, Maura. I need you to come."

"What could you possibly need me for? You're going to need the professionals who can locate and retrieve them, if that's even a possibility."

Jane squirmed with impatience and a little something else. "Sure. And they'll be right behind us. But I… if I'm goin' into this… if I'm walkin' into certain death, if I'm not gonna make it out, I need you there. I know it's fucking selfish but I'm scared shitless. I'm not doin' this without you."

Maura twitched her nose, and then pulled Jane close to her by the sides of her face. "You're distraught. You're not thinking rationally. You shouldn't be doing this at all."

Jane sniffled. "Yeah I know. Go with me anyway?" she said it as if she were asking Maura out to dinner.

Maura wrapped her arms fiercely around Jane's shoulders and squeezed, afraid she was only holding pieces of her. "Ok. Ok, let's go."

They walked toward the underground opening to the tunnel that Captain Green and his men had uncovered, and Maura entered first with a thermal heat sensor from the fire department. "Last chance to back out," Jane said quietly as the building rumbled and she put her hand on Maura's shoulder to shelter her.

"I don't think that's an option, Jane," Maura said with a rueful smile. The tunnel was dark and musty, and the two of them stepped over large cans littered all over the floor.

"What are all these cans?" Jane said, annoyed.

"Old civil defense water cans," Maura answered, because of course she knew. "They use to store them here. Little did they know, it wasn't a very effective atomic bomb shelter because of the chimney effect."

"Let's talk about this later, babe," Jane teased as she shined her flashlight forward, ducking to get the best view she could. The garage shook again and Jane hovered over a crouched Maura, regretting her decision to ask her to come. Once the tremor passed, they walked until they encountered what appeared to be a makeshift wall. Jane felt despair again. "I don't think we can go any further."

"Alright, let me check here," Maura walked all the way to the edge of the wall.

"Maura, I can't tell my mother that my brother's dead," Jane groaned.

"Jane," Maura said in response, looking intently at the screen on the sensor as she pointed it above them, "look, look."

"That's them, that's them!" Jane yelped as she saw two distinctly hot forms appear. Captain Green and his team were not far behind, and she jumped as she pointed out the area to them.

It took them twenty long minutes to cut a hole into the concrete overhead, but when they finally did, they were able to hoist up one man onto P3.

That man spent an agonizing five minutes above, and then, his burly, glove covered hands lowered what looked like a baby wrapped in an emergency blanket. A totally silent baby.

"Maura," Jane said as she ran to the baby, "he's not moving."

And then, as if at the sound of his aunt's voice, TJ cried loud enough to echo. "That's a vigorous cry, Jane. He's ok," Maura said as she took TJ and checked him over quickly.

Captain Green turned to them. "Get that baby out of here!" he bellowed, and Jane and Maura obeyed, carrying TJ out the whole way back.

* * *

Angela and Lydia had been called as soon as Frankie knew TJ was safe. Angela held her grandson in her arms and attempted to soothe him as he wailed. Lydia was right next to her, running a thumb over TJ's forehead. "Oh baby, baby," she said as Angela bounced him, "TJ, you're ok, honey. Oh yeah, you're ok."

Jane, Maura, and Frankie stood around her, glad to see him safe, but nauseous about the others. They watched the tunnel, every person that walked in front of it Tommy, or Captain Green, until they weren't. "There's Frost!" Jane said, running to him as soon as she was sure. His left arm was in a sling and he was walking out onto the street under his own power. "Hey, you a'right?" she asked him quietly.

He grimaced in pain. He was taking her in, her filthy t-shirt, all untucked and askew, a small gash that had bled heavily just at her hairline, and grim all over her cheeks. He decided that they probably didn't look so different right about now. "Yeah, busted arm," he said as he held it up to her. "I think that's about it."

Frankie waited until they walked back to where he was standing with his mother and Maura, but then he gathered Frost up in a crushing hug. "Boy, you sure know how to make an exit."

Frost smirked. "It's good to see you, man," he said in reply before he was helped into an ambulance by Captain Green.

"Where's Tommy? I don't see Tommy!" Angela said when no one else was exiting the tunnel. Jane, almost too sick to turn around, did it anyway, just in time to see her brother being pushed out on a gurney, his arm up in the air like he was searching for someone.

"Oh my god! There's Tommy! Tommy!" Lydia said then, jumping up, practically willing the gurney towards them.

His family walked forward as he was wheeled toward the ambulance. "Hey bud, how're you doin'?" Jane asked him.

"I'm, I'm ok. Except for my head," Tommy said, moaning when he touched his forehead and his hand came back bloody. "Is TJ ok?"

Angela appeared at his other side with TJ outstretched towards him. "He's right here, baby. He's fine. Oh, Tommy," she choked out, emotion pummeling her, wave after wave.

Tommy touched TJ's chest and then put his head back down. "Oh I'm ok, Ma. Just… just make sure Lydia pumps for him, ok?"

Lydia grabbed his hand. "I'm right here, Tommy. I've got it all covered, there's bottles in my bag already," she said.

"Oh ok," Tommy said, relieved. As the paramedics pushed him up into the back of the ambulance, Lydia attempted to climb into it with him, same as Angela.

One of the men held his hand out to keep Lydia at bay. "You his wife?"

Before Angela could counsel her to say yes, she said "I'm his baby's mother. We're not married."

The man immediately barred her from entering. "Family only," he said sternly.

Jane barked from behind them. "You can't make an exception? She just told you she's the baby's mother."

Angela looked at Lydia and made a decision. Tommy needed to get to the hospital, quickly. They didn't have time to fight. "C'mon, honey," she said, pulling Lydia down. "We'll get a cop escort, follow the ambulance to Beth Israel the whole way. Frankie!"

Frankie helped pull them down, already ready to take them. "Ok, c'mon. Let's go. I can have us waiting there for him to arrive." he gave the baby back to Lydia, and then the three of them were on their way. Jane walked with them to ensure their safety, a vestige from the trauma they had all just faced.

* * *

Maura watched from a distance, the way they comforted one another by taking action and by making decisions. They made sacrifices for each other, promised each other things, delivered on those promises. She knew now, in her bones, that when Jane had said she would do anything to keep Maura, she meant it. And Maura wanted to stay around.

Hope Martin watched them, too. She watched Maura watching them, and accepted things about family and intimacy that she had been reluctant to before. She knew that when she walked up to Maura's side, that Maura didn't think of her as family. And for the first time, that thought filled her with regret.

Maura spoke first. "I want to help Cailin," she said.

Hope sighed. "She told me what she said to you."

Maura nodded. "She said, 'I don't want any part of you living in me.'"

"I'm so sorry," Hope said. Maura could tell that she meant it.

"We all say and do stupid things. But that doesn't mean she shouldn't live. I'll have Boston General's transplant unit arrange everything. I… I don't want Cailin to ever know."

Hope shook her head. "Maura…"

"No. Promise me," Maura was resolute. She turned her eyes from Jane and the other Rizzolis to Hope.

"I promise," Hope said quietly. She looked at Maura, standing there, strong and so selfless, and she was overcome. She opened her arms. "Can I… would it be alright with you if…"

Maura knew what she was asking even if she couldn't find the words. She nodded. Hope embraced her desperately, clinging onto her, squeezing her shoulders and burying her head at Maura's shoulder.

"I will never be able to thank you," Hope finally said, and Maura felt suspiciously like a parent as she patted Hope lightly on the back.

* * *

Jane watched her brother, her mother, and Lydia, drive away towards the hospital.

Maura watched Jane breathe, watched her shoulders rise and fall with the expansion of her lungs, took in her long arms and legs and her broad back. Maura needed a moment. A moment without Jane knowing she was there, a moment to steel herself. Jane had asked her to walk into a death trap for her. And she said yes. Without hesitation she said yes, especially when she pictured the life without Jane that could have ensued. And then, when they had exited with TJ and Tommy had been wheeled away alive, Maura's stomach had churned. _They didn't let Lydia in the ambulance._

She didn't even realize she had been walking when she dropped her hand into Jane's. Jane jumped slightly, but smiled widely, with crinkled eyes, when she saw Maura. "Hey. How long have you been here?"

"Just a few minutes. I wanted to make sure they got off ok, too," Maura answered.

Jane felt the tension. "Yeah. They did. Just another day at the office, huh?" she attempted to break it, but when Maura only turned to face her, their hands still connected, she altered course. "You ok?"

"Listen to me," Maura said, pulling Jane's other hand into her own so that they were front to front.

"I'm listenin'," Jane said, leaning her head down just slightly to hear Maura better over the commotion of police activity, fire trucks, and EMTs bustling around them.

"They didn't let Lydia in the ambulance," Maura said, and she knew that Jane saw the wetness in her eyes.

"I know - you believe that? Standing in front of a bunch of cops, with the baby right there. Who's gonna lie about that?" Jane scoffed, remembering the incident.

"Because she wasn't his wife," Maura said, slowly.

Jane was looking at her, but not really _seeing_. "Yeah. They have a family only policy I guess."

"I don't ever want to be denied a seat in the ambulance, Jane. That cannot happen to me again if you get hurt," Maura struggled to find the exact right words, she struggled under the weight of what she was asking, what she was implying.

Jane shook her head. "You won't have that problem. You're an MD. You're also not a bonehead."

Maura sighed. She closed her eyes and she could feel Jane's pulse at her wrists. "I know this is not a romantic, or elaborate, way to ask. It's also probably not the right time. But I need you to marry me, Jane. I can't go through what Lydia went through today."

Jane stiffened. Turned pale, looked ghastly against the dark red blood on her face. "Maura."

"I'm not really asking, either, I guess. I'm telling you what I need," said Maura, tugging Jane closer until they were flush.

"That is… that's ah..." Jane stammered, and her pallor gave way to blush. She bit her lower lip when Maura put a hand against the scarred gunshot wound she'd given herself about two years prior. The heat of that hand felt good against her tight skin.

"Do what it takes to keep me, Jane," Maura said, both ordering Jane and warning her, echoing Jane's words from just that morning. "This is what it takes to keep me."

Jane nodded slowly, unable to deny her, unwilling to deny her.


	26. Chapter 26

"Hey, c'mon," Jane mumbled huskily in the dark of her and Maura's bedroom. The covers were up over her shoulders and she slithered her left hand under the back of Maura's flowy t-shirt. She inhaled at the crown of Maura's hair, kissing her way down to a smooth forehead, sleepy eyelids, and finally, soft lips.

Until Maura flopped over, huffing and avoiding Jane's mouth, pressing her behind into Jane's hips instead. "No," she said, pulling Jane's now-empty left hand up to her chest and holding it tight while she laced their legs together.

Jane groaned into Maura's shoulder, all muffled. "But we have almost a whole hour before we have to get up," she whispered, and when she sucked on Maura's earlobe, she thought she _might_ be getting somewhere.

"I don't know if I'm ready yet. My surgical site may not be able to handle the strain," Maura sighed, turning her head towards her pillow so that Jane's lips would pop away from her ear.

"But the doctor cleared you for physical activity weeks ago," Jane countered, moving her hand from Maura's grasp and sliding it under her shirt to touch fingertips to silky skin. She flattened her palm against Maura's sternum so that her thumb grazed the swell of a warm breast, and she nearly fell apart.

"Yes, light physical exercise, Jane. I don't know about intercourse," said Maura. She didn't pull away from Jane's most recent attempt to bring them together, let herself get lost in it just enough to quicken her pulse.

"I can be gentle if that's what you're worried about," Jane pleaded. She felt Maura arch back when she squeezed, and so she thrust forward with her hips- slowly, with measure and control. "I wanna taste it, Maura. I miss you. Don't you miss me?" After she asked, she put her tongue broad and flat against the back of Maura's neck and gave it one long, heavy, slow swipe.

Maura bit her lower lip to hide her moan, but when Jane grabbed her side before licking again, she yelped. "Ow, ow ow."

Jane slumped her head forward so that it rested against Maura's and placed her hand innocently on the sheets. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. A'right? We'll take it slow."

Maura turned around again, and put her hand on Jane's cheek, resting her thumb in the dimple of her chin. "Ok."

Jane smiled through all the frustration on her face. "I still think it's amazing that they can suck out an organ through a straw."

Maura melted at all the throaty New England coming out of Jane so early in the morning. She loved the way her voice was scratchy and deep before anyone else got to see her. "It's called a laparoscope and they do not use it to 'suck out' your kidney," she started, and then winced when she tried to scoot closer to Jane. "Ugh. 'Minimally invasive,' my ass."

"Mmm," Jane leaned forward again, trying to kiss her. She settled for the bridge of Maura's nose when Maura withheld her lips. "You're gonna feel much better when you get back in shape, ok?"

Maura pulled way back then, her hand rough against Jane's chest. "Are you saying that I'm fat and out of shape?"

Jane closed one eye and grimaced. "No! I meant sex shape!" she said, and then pouted. "You don't even sleep naked anymore."

"This still sounds like you're saying I've let myself go," Maura warned as she glowered.

"No. I'm saying that you aren't sleepin' with me because you're depressed. You have gotta stop hopin' that they're gonna send you some 'thank you for your kidney' fruit basket," Jane said firmly. She met Maura's harsh gaze without fear.

Maura yanked the duvet around her tight. "Giving the gift of life is the only reward that I need. I'm very happy with my decision."

Jane gritted her teeth and burrowed her face in the crook of Maura's neck. "Then why are you still such a whiny pain in the ass?"

Maura gasped. She jabbed Jane in the ribs with her finger. "Did you just call me a whiny pain in the ass?"

"Maura. Ever since you gave that ungrateful half-sister of yours your kidney, you just… ya just haven't been yourself. A'right? And I'm not the only one who sees it. Just-"

"You've been talking about me?" Maura interrupted. Her whisper was harsh. "My girlfriend gossiping about me behind my back, after what I've been through?"

Jane thought there were a good many things she could have said in response, but none of them, even the _l love you_ , would have landed well. It was early and Maura wasn't really interested in hearing Jane's side of the story. Fair. "It's starting to get hot. I'm gonna get up before iced coffee becomes a necessity." So instead, she stole a kiss before Maura could refuse and whipped the covers away before jumping out of bed.

"Did your mother say something? Or was it one of your brothers? Jane!" Maura called for Jane even after she had trotted into the bathroom and locked the door. She jutted out her lower lip and pulled the now-empty covers over her head.

* * *

"Didn't we just get it detailed? The only time I wash my car is right before I sell it," Jane grumbled as she ambled into the Division One Cafe just behind Maura later that morning. She snarled at the curve of Maura's ass in her tight black skirt, contrasted with a flowy white blouse and yellow blazer. The least Maura could do was find some frumpy clothes to wear if this is how things were going to be.

Maura rolled her eyes. "It only has to be detailed again because you spilled your triple-power latte all over my driver's seat. I'm still not sure if I'm going to let you drive it ever again."

"How'd you know it was me?" Jane tried lamely. She approached the counter where her mother had a smile waiting for the both of them, and held up her index finger. Somehow, her mother knew that meant coffee, stat, so she got right on making it.

"You know, Europeans have it right. Car engineers design them without cup holders," Maura said, ignoring her, pulling the front of Jane's blazer straight instead.

"But where do you put your coffee?" Jane asked. Under her breath, she said, "you can't do that. Not if I'm not allowed to touch."

Satisfied with the way Jane's blazer fell now, Maura smirked and stepped back. "You drink it. At a cafe. You do not slosh it around in your car."

"Well, _chiamami 'miricana_ , then," snarked Jane, taking her coffee from Angela. "Mornin', Ma."

Angela smiled. "Morning, sweetheart. Why are we calling you American?" she asked as she got to work on Maura's cup.

"Long story. But apparently Americans are the only people on Earth who get to enjoy coffee in their car."

"Angela, do you have an issue with my mood?" Maura asked suddenly, fiddling with the straps of her purse in her hand.

Angela kept her back turned from the both of them to hide her blush. "Your mood?"

"Well, Jane said you were complaining about me."

Jane's eyes widened. "I did not say that, Ma!"

Angela turned around. "Alright, enough bickering. Look, baby. We're worried about you. Wouldn't you be happier if you just talked to your mom and sister?" Jane looked on in hopeful silence. Unfortunately, Maura said nothing, so Angela turned to Jane. "You. Talk to your brother, would you?" she said, pointing to a nervous-looking Frankie at the end of the counter. "Today's a big day for him."

"He's gonna find out about that UC assignment today," Jane said to no one in particular and walked over to him. She clapped a hand on his back. "Hey bud. You on your way to a rave with ya friends Atticus and Tallulah?" she asked teasingly, referring to his ripped jeans, faded tee, and leather motorcycle jacket. He even had his hair messy and unstyled to look the part.

"No, feels more like Cafe Ace with London rockers," ever-refined and European Maura said. She smiled at him warmly.

He shook his head. "Can you two go inspect someone else?" Then he got a look at Maura's blazer. "That's very yellow."

Maura took it as a genuine compliment. "Thank you," she said. "You know, you should be very careful around ovulating women." When Jane and Frankie stared at her, she elaborated. "The University of Texas study that determined that ovulating women are attracted to biker types in order to fertilize their eggs."

Jane leaned over and whispered through clenched teeth. "Is that what I gotta do? Ride a motorcycle? 'Cause I will." Maura just scoffed good-naturedly.

"Explains what happened with uh, me and your father," Angela said with disdain.

Jane was genuinely shocked. "Whoa. Pop rode a motorcycle?"

"I'd rather not remember." And just like that, her mother manned the cash register again.

"We got a new boss over at DCU," Frankie said, turning to his sister. He wiped vestiges of his breakfast off of his lips with his napkin. "You ever meet him, Jane? A Lieutenant, uh…"

"Rafael Martinez," said Jane, seeing him approach. The Spanish melded well with her Sicilian tongue, but it dripped with disdain. A man in a three-piece suit, with a shaved head and groomed, close-cut beard leered at her when he walked through the cafe door. He was handsome and he was dark-skinned and he walked with a hitch in his step, just like Jane.

"It's been a long time, Rizzoli," he said, his deep vowels and Boston Puerto Rican accent seemed like the perfect resonator with Jane's gravelly North End voice.

Maura noticed.

Maura noticed the way Jane stiffened in front of her, went hard. She noticed the way that Martinez made his shoulders broad and put his thumbs through his belt, the way he smiled at Jane as though he knew her - intimately.

When Jane opened her mouth to speak, Maura saw the same curvature of lips that had brought her to the precipice a thousand times. Good thing that Korsak joined them before any orgasmic words came out.

"Rafi, when did you crawl out from under the covers?" Korsak laughed, pulling the man into a hearty embrace.

"Vinny!" Martinez replied, and they exchanged pleasantries in Spanish, Vince in his learned Mexican drawl, Martinez in his fast and easy Puerto Rican.

Frankie shot up and put his hand out as soon as their hug ended. "I uh, I don't think we ever met, sir."

Martinez didn't take it. He only looked between Frankie and Jane, and made a decision. "So, you're the other Rizzoli."

Frankie's face fell. "Yeah, yeah, I guess so, sir."

"Ok, Other Rizzoli, my office in ten," Martinez nodded, and then left, back to where he came from.

"Sure," said Frankie. When the coast was clear, he glared at Jane. "I cannot get a fucking break."

Jane threw her hands out at her sides. "Oh Frankie, come on!"

He didn't wait for the rest of her explanation before waving her off and heading to the elevators. Angela threw a dish towel at Jane. "What did you do?"

Jane turned deep red and said a silent prayer of thanks for her and Maura's buzzing phones. "I have to get this. Rizzoli."

* * *

"Hey Maura, get the bullet out of this morning's body yet?" Jane gave no greeting as she entered the morgue, other than her distant half-smile to Maura's back. It was mid-June, but the chill of the air conditioning here in the lab always made her shiver when she first walked in for the day. Maura turned around when she heard Jane, revealing the number 2 pencil between her teeth as she made notes on a clipboard. "What're you doing?" was Jane's second question.

Maura took Jane in for the first time in a few hours and warmth suffused her when she thought about Jane's t-shirt and how snug it was against her trim torso. At the sight, she fantasized about Jane's long arms and sturdy shoulders, and for a moment, it banished memories of Hope, and of Cailin. But only for a moment, until she remembered the question. "Biting on a pencil," she said.

"Yes, I can see that. But why?"

"It activates the muscles used for smiling," answered Maura. Jane stepped closer to her to get a better look at the body and a better look at her.

"Well, those muscles are a little out of shape, honey," Jane teased lightly, with her own sheepish grin, this one unaided by any writing utensils.

"I'm going to ignore you in an attempt to improve my mood," Maura announced, and turned away from Jane.

"Ok. So… biting pencils works?" Jane played along, even when Maura could feel stymied desire wafting off of her.

So, she decided to be merciful and back closer into Jane, even if they weren't facing one another. "Well, holding your teeth in this position engages the zygomaticus major and the risorious muscle."

Jane took advantage of their closeness and slowly dragged the pencil out of Maura's mouth. Maura's hips lurched forward of their own accord. "I can't understand you like that," Jane said.

"Some studies show that you can trick your brain into thinking you're happy by moving certain muscles."

"Oh. And you're only upset about Hope?"

"It's petty. Small-minded."

"Wanting her to at least call you to say, 'hey, thanks for the organ?'" Jane snarked. Maura surprised her by turning around and crossing her arms over her chest.

"No. Not that. Did you sleep with him?" Maura asked instead.

"Uh, what? What the hell are we talkin' about?" Jane stepped back a couple of feet to assess the one-eighty Maura had both literally and figuratively pulled.

"Rafael. Did you sleep with him?" Maura, undeterred, stepped closer to Jane for the second time in as many minutes. Jane tried not to let that distract her from the conversation at hand.

She didn't really have time to answer, however, because her little brother and the man in question had just rounded the corner to talk to Susie. "What's he doin' down here?" Jane glared at the back of his head through the autopsy door windows.

The stare was so vicious that Maura turned to follow it. "DCU's evidence is being processed in-house now. Answer my question."

"Can we talk about this when he's not ten feet away?" Jane said through gritted teeth, and then Martinez was entering the morgue. Frankie plodded along behind his new boss glumly, stopping to gather himself outside, but Martinez breezed into the room with pride and intention.

He faced Maura, who stood in front of Jane, much closer than a friendly colleague should. He looked her up and down before he spoke. "Dr. Isles," he said, his eyes dark and serious, "I should have introduced myself in the cafe. Rafael Martinez."

She took the warm hand he held out for her. The handshake was firm, just like Jane's. "It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant. I look forward to working together."

He smiled at her, a bright, genuine smile, and she hadn't expected it. "It's a little overwhelming coming back here… after being gone for so long," he said. He looked at Jane, his eyes lingering. Anger wafted off of her and pressed against Maura's back.

"Gone?" asked Maura, "so you're returning to BPD?"

"And here I thought that Detective Rizzoli would have told you all about me, since you're such close friends," Martinez said. He winked at Jane and it set her even more ablaze.

"It didn't even occur to me," she spat. He only smiled again.

"Actually, Jane is my fiancee," Maura said, feeling Jane and Martinez pushing her out of the conversation, and anxious to get back into it. She succeeded, with the both of them staring at her, eyes and mouths open. "Of sorts," she clarified.

Martinez recovered more quickly than Jane did. "Wow, Rizzoli," he said, "I didn't know you wanted a wife. I could have been that for you, you know. I wouldn't have minded." It was as open as anyone had been about their previous relationship and Jane flushed before she could gather herself enough to respond.

"To be fair, neither of us could have been the wife the other one wanted, Martinez," she said, finally smiling, but it was dark and full of distaste. "That's why we never worked."

"Is that the only reason why?" He was bold, Maura had to give him that. And he didn't feel malicious. More than anything, he seemed a little hurt and a lot braggadocious. He was too much like Jane. She needed him out.

"It's very nice of you to introduce yourself," she said. "If you need anything, feel free to contact me or my staff. Now, Jane and I need to get back to this autopsy, if you don't mind."

Martinez shook his head. "Of course not. Thank you for your time." He left, passing by Frankie in the hall without so much as an order.

Frankie poked his head in the double doors then. "Hey, I finally get promoted to detective, and my boss hates Rizzolis. Thanks Jane," he said, then slammed the door shut before she could reply.

Jane sighed and put her hands over her face. She rubbed vigorously. "Christ."

"Well, Rafael seems to have answered my question for you," Maura said coldly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. He is very attractive, you're very attractive. Was he your boss?"

Jane gagged and leaned on the slab as close to Maura as she allowed. "No, he wasn't. Can you please stop calling him Rafael? Here, at work, he's Martinez."

"Just like you're Rizzoli," Maura observed, starting to understand why the detectives and officers referred to each other by their surnames. It was a way to distance themselves from each other when they faced high-intensity situations together every day.

"Just like you'll be Rizzoli, soon, too. Apparently," Jane teased, and their eyes met. She closed hers so that her crow's feet appeared, and smiled cheekily with her lips closed when she saw the pink in Maura's cheeks.

"What makes you think I'd take your name?" Maura tried to recover, but Jane had already seen the way her skin flushed and her legs crossed.

"You shoulda never told me about Mr. Benivieni," Jane said. Then she turned serious. "It's ok, you know. You can be possessive of me if you want. You deserve it. Even if just this morning I was only your girlfriend."

Maura sighed. "So, other than in the biblical sense, how do you know Lieutenant Martinez?" she asked.

"We worked together when I started in the drug unit. We had to play a couple and go to clubs and dance… and blend in and drink and bust people. We got a little caught up. I was hoping I'd never see him again after what happened," Jane explained. At a time when Maura would usually reach out to hold her, to reassure with touch, there was nothing. She felt cold.

"Was he married?" Maura asked, more out of curiosity than care.

"No. Actually that would have been easier. We got my CI killed," said Jane. She glanced down at her boots as she shuffled her weight from one hip to the other.

"I'm so sorry," said Maura.

"Yeah. Then we had a falling out and he took an assignment with a federal task force, and that was eight years ago. I haven't seen him since then," Jane said the last part on her lowest and graveliest register.

Maura heard the sadness there. "Were you in love with him?"

Jane shook her head honestly. "Nah. We just had this toxic, physical thing. I had more feelings for his sister," she said, and Maura's eyes danced with shock and mischief at the revelation.

"He has a sister, does he?" she asked, "now I am _very_ jealous."

"He does. She lives in California. She grew up there, he grew up here. They're half Puerto Rican, half Mexican, and she went to live with mom, while Martinez grew up with his dad. She was in law school at BCU when I met her, though."

"I must say I didn't peg you for the love triangle type," Maura said. She smirked when Jane blushed.

"I didn't mean for it to turn out that way. Just kinda happened," Jane said bashfully. She was thrilled when Maura let her put her head on her shoulder without shrinking away. "Maybe I'll give her a call, though, since I'm gettin' nowhere with you recently." Maura smacked the back of her head forcefully and she guffawed through the pain. "Ow!"

"Not if you still want a wife, you won't," Maura threatened, but it was tempered by the laugh in her voice. "Work harder, Jane."

Jane bristled with hope. It was the first light she had seen in over a month and a half since the surgery and even Susie interrupting them with her presence didn't dampen it. "Dr. Isles? Your sister is upstairs."

Both Jane and Maura looked at each other before looking at Susie. "My sister?" Maura asked quietly.

"Well that's who she said she was," Susie answered, suddenly not so sure.

"You do have a sister, Maura. Even if she doesn't really want to be one to you," Jane said kindly.

"Yes. Susie, tell Cailin to wait for me in the cafe," Maura said. When Susie left and they were alone again, she groaned. "Oh my god. What do I say? What does she want?"

Jane shrugged. "Maybe she wants to tell you thanks for the kidney. Need me to go up there with you?"

Maura nodded. "I won't be able to handle a confrontation, Jane."

Jane snarled. "I'll kick her ass out on the curb before it even approaches that. But don't assume the worst, ok? You've been wanting to hear from them, let's just go up there and see what she has to say."

"Ok. Let me get changed."

* * *

Cailin Martin, looking much more vibrant and, well, alive, than the last time Maura had seen her, rose when Jane and Maura spotted her at her table. She wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a light leather jacket much like the teenager she would now get to be with her health restored. "Maura, hi. I'm sorry to just show up like this," she said, and she held a small bouquet of flowers out for her sister.

Maura took them with a timid smile. "Thank you. What are these for?"

Cailin chuckled. "Come on, Maura. I'm pre-med. I knew it was your kidney. And I just… I know that I've owed you an apology for a long time. I'm really sorry about everything I said and all the crap that I pulled. I can't ever really thank you enough."

Jane twitched her nose. She regarded Cailin, tried not to feel like she was responsible for Jane's current non-elective celibacy, but also conceded that the apology was a good one. "You wanna talk to your big sister alone?" she asked politely.

"No, no. I'm glad you're here. Can we sit?" Cailin asked, and they all did. She pulled a package out of her messenger bag and handed it to Maura. "I uh, I wasn't sure if I was going to have the guts to come see you in person, so I wrote you a letter. There's something in there for you, too."

Maura opened the envelope, and pulled out the jewelry box. Centered on the silk pillow inside was a scrimshaw necklace with a bridge carved into it. It was set on a gold pendant with a gold chain. "Scrimshaw. It's beautiful. And real whale bone. Thank you."

Cailin smiled at Maura's approval. "It's a family heirloom of sorts, I guess. Mom gave it to me on my 18th birthday. She said it was given to her on hers, by someone she loved very much. I'm, uh, I'm pretty sure it was your dad. It should be with you."

Maura paled at the mention of Paddy Doyle. His trial was coming up, and she had nearly forgotten with all the drama with TJ, and now with her own organ donation. "Cailin, I…"

"Listen Maura. I'm here because I wanted to apologize, and I wanted to see if… if you'd be open to, I don't know, texting each other every once in awhile, seeing where our relationship goes," Cailin said, and when Maura nodded, she continued. "But I'm also here because I'm worried about my mom. Our mom."

"She alright?" Jane asked.

"I'm not sure. Some men came by the house last night," Cailin replied.

That got Jane's attention. She scooted her chair forward aggressively and leaned in. Maura saw it for what it was, a show of concern for Cailin, and she put her hand in Jane's open left one to call her back down, but Cailin stiffened in apprehension. "What kind of men?" Maura asked in order to calm her, too.

"Scary ones? I mean, they wore suits, but they had this, like, dark energy," Cailin said, looking at Jane.

"Well, do you know what they wanted?" Jane asked her, still close and coiled.

"No, but they seemed pissed. She told me to go to my room and lock my door."

"Lock your door?"

"They were talking pretty quietly, but I heard them ask her about MEND."

When Jane blinked, Maura explained. "Medical Emergency Network of Doctors. That's Hope's charity. Could it have been about fundraising?"

Cailin shook her head. "It sounded like they were threatening her. She says we're going back to London."

"Well, isn't that a good idea? I thought you missed London," said Maura.

"I love it here now," Cailin answered, one Maura and Jane were not expecting, "but I don't know. It's too full of ghosts for her." Maura frowned. "I-I don't mean you."

"You mean Paddy Doyle?" Maura supplied for her.

"Yeah. I see her reading the papers. She's following his RICO pre-trial hearings. I gotta get back to class, but I just… I don't know what to do," said Cailin. She rose and grabbed her bag, and then Jane stood up to meet her.

"We got you, ok? Maura and I will talk to her, find out what's goin' on. Hopefully it's just a big misunderstanding," she said, and Cailin blushed.

"We will. Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us," Maura said, standing too. "I know that must have been hard."

Cailin nodded. "Thanks for listening."

"Let us walk you out," Jane said, her hand between Cailin's shoulder blades as they all walked toward the BPD lobby. "And listen. If something like that happens ever again, if she asks you to go to your room, or you see strange guys around your place at night, call me, ok? Maura'll give you my number."

Cailin looked at her big sister, who nodded once reassuringly. "It's a good number to have. In case of emergencies," said Maura.

Jane stopped just as they approached the doors to the street. "I gotta go back upstairs. I have some potential leads to call. But I'll see you later." Without thinking, she kissed Maura on her way to the bullpen, and she realized on the stairwell, when she was all alone, that Maura had kissed her back.

* * *

"Hey," Jane greeted Maura as she trotted into her office a few hours after Cailin had left. She had a goofy smile on her face.

Maura hid behind her computer monitor so Jane couldn't see her own small smile reflecting back. "Hey yourself," she said. "Why are you so pleased?"

"Martinez got pulled in to work my case," said Jane, approaching Maura's desk.

Maura soured instantly. "You're happy that you're working with Martinez and you were stupid enough to tell me that?"

Jane huffed. "That's not what I meant. He's on my case, which blows, but it also means they're working the drug angle for me and _that_ means I have time to see you. So I came to see what you're doing for lunch."

"Nothing, why?" Maura said, assuaged. Something about the look on Jane's face, however, told her she should not have been.

* * *

"I don't like to be tricked twice in one day, Jane," Maura complained as she and the detective exited the unmarked parked just outside Hope's MEND clinic.

"I said we were having lunch. I didn't say where," Jane said. She held her arm out for Maura to walk inside its radius before they crossed the street.

"I thought you were going to do something romantic," Maura said, glaring at Jane's smug grin.

"What, cold greasy corn dogs and a trip to talk to your estranged mother can be romantic. You know, this used to be a methadone clinic, but thanks to Dr. Martin, it's the first MEND clinic in the US."

Maura sighed deeply. She stopped Jane just outside the entrance. "Look. I do not object to her saving women and children. But I do object to her calling me a liar, and then ignoring me until she needed my kidney."

Jane put her forehead on Maura's. "You're a good person," she said.

Maura tossed her corn dog bag into the nearby trash. "Why do we always feel this tug when we're related by blood?"

"I dunno. But I mean, I still miss my Pop even though he left my mother high and dry, cheated on her, and almost knocked up a 29 year old woman," Jane answered honestly, and she was rewarded for that honesty with Maura's index finger curling around her own. "What does the research say?"

"Nothing that explains how we feel," said Maura. "Let's go in."

The clinic was modest and full of parents and their children. It was loud, too: there were shrieks, laughter, and the rattle of infant toys. Maura took Jane's hand as they walked in, just for the feeling of safety in the cacophonous waiting room. A tall nurse in purple scrubs and a teddy bear-printed scrub sweater approached them without looking up from her keyboard. "Name?" Jane opened her mouth to say, but then the woman recognized her. She pulled Jane into a bracing hug. "Detective Rizzoli!" she said happily, and squeezed Jane tightly.

"Hi Shandra," Jane said into her neck.

"Girl, you are still as skinny as the day you locked me up," Shandra said when she let Jane stand on her own again.

"How are you? You look great," Jane ignored the comment. Shandra really did look great: She'd put on weight, gotten clean, gotten her nursing degree, and now she was the head nurse at Hope's clinic, even running the show when Hope was away in other countries.

"Thank you," said Shandra, doing a curtsy. Then she turned to Maura. "This woman is the reason I quit drugs and finished nursing school. She stayed in touch, helped me out when she could, even wrote one of my letters of rec for grad school."

"She's quite something," Maura agreed.

"This is uh, Dr. Isles," said Jane. "She's actually Dr. Martin's daughter. We're here to see her."

"Oh, of course," Shandra waved to Hope, emerging from an exam room just behind her, beckoning her to them.

"Maura," Hope said warmly, with her hair clipped back and in a white coat, looking just like Maura looked in the morgue on any given day. "Detective Rizzoli," her nod to Jane was much more professional, distant. "How are you?"

"Doin' just fine, Hope," Jane answered. "Cailin's a little worried about you, though."

Hope laughed nervously. "About me? Why?" Maura started to answer, but then Hope saw the necklace she wore. A familiar scrimshaw. "Where did you get that necklace?"

Maura gulped. "Oh, I'm- I'm sorry. I assumed you knew that Cailin was giving it to me."

Hope nodded, clearly still surprised. "Of course. Shandra could you please put Mrs. Reynolds in room two, and weigh that Perez baby? Let's go talk in my office."

Jane let Maura lead just behind Hope, and when the two of them were seated at Hope's desk, Jane closed the door behind them. "We don't wanna take up too much of your time."

Hope smiled and shook her head. "What can I do for you?"

"Cailin said that there were strange men at your home last night. She said they sounded intimidating and dangerous. She wanted us to check in with you to make sure you were alright," said Maura. She crossed her legs daintily at the same time Hope did. Jane took a seat next to her.

"Teenagers can be so dramatic," Hope said, "those big scary men, they're my accountants. But I'll talk to her about it."

Jane rolled her eyes. Obfuscation she could handle. People lied to her every day; it was just kind of part of the job. But Hope just gaslit Maura - tried to make her feel like she was crazy, like she was imagining things. "Your accountants come at eleven at night?" she asked, pretending that Hope's office was an interrogation room.

Hope faltered, and her lips opened for a few seconds before she finally spoke. "Well, I am too busy during the day."

"She's afraid for you, Hope," Maura said.

"And that's silly," Hope continued despite Jane's glower. "And although I'm very sorry that she put you through this, I really am glad to see you, Maura."

Maura wondered if she should believe it. She took a deep breath in. "I don't want to pry into your life. I just feel a responsibility to Cailin. I told her I would talk to you."

"And I so appreciate it, but really, it's just MEND business," Hope said.

Jane had had enough. "Is that why you told Cailin to lock the door? That's a doctor," she growled, pointing to Maura, "so stop trying to make her look stupid. Why are you movin' back to London, huh? Is someone threatening you?"

Hope was flabbergasted at the attack on her motives, even if the insinuation was true. Shandra saved her from having to confront Jane. "Sorry, doctor, we're getting a little behind," she said quietly, popping in and then out when she ascertained the strain in the room.

Hope took that as her cue. "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work."

Maura stood up as her mother was walking towards the door. "How can you go back to London with all these people depending on you?"

"Every clinic that I open has to run without me eventually. And I do have to think about Cailin. She wants to move back to London." And with that, Hope left to tend to the rest of her patients.

Jane stood up, too, and stared at the closed door in wonder. Her hands went to Maura's shoulders instinctively, squeezing and smoothing. "Too bad lying doesn't give her hives. Let's get out of here."

Maura nodded as she opened the door for them. "Maybe she has a reason, Jane."

Jane walked them the few short strides to the front door and opened it for Maura. "What, the truth gives her eczema?"

"You don't like her, do you?" Maura asked as they crossed the street to their car. Jane opened the passenger side door for her, but Maura stopped just short of lowering herself into her seat, choosing instead to place her palm in the center of Jane's chest. She admired the way her Zanotti's made her nearly Jane's height, was thankful for them.

"No baby, I don't. I don't like the way she treats you. Cailin's an adult; have a relationship with her, you know? You don't have to have contact with Hope," grumbled Jane. "And by the way, what does Constance say about all this?"

"She raised me. She's my mother - I don't talk about it with her," Maura admitted. Jane leaned forward and closed the minute distance between them, desperate enough for touch to take the risk.

She was rewarded with wide, sweeping circles on her back. "I thought that would go better. I thought we'd get some answers. Sorry."

"I take it back," said Maura in reply. She relished how Jane's forehead felt against her own.

"Take what back?" asked Jane, pulling back so that she could meet Maura's gaze. She was frightened and Maura regretted whatever she had done to put that fear there.

"You did do something romantic," Maura said, and then she sat down.

By the time Jane had closed Maura's door and walked around to the driver's side, she was on the phone. "Hey Frost, what's up?" she answered as she plopped down. Her long legs barely fit in the small cab, so one of her knees was bent upwards against the driver door as she rotated to buckle her seatbelt. Frost must have said something interesting, because Jane fidgeted as she checked the rearview. "She was doing buy busts at BCU? Martinez know that? Alright. I'll meet you back at BPD."

Jane hung up the phone, but continued to tap her fingers on the steering wheel and stare at herself in the mirror when she noticed movement. "What's wrong?" Maura asked her.

That seemed to shake her out of her thoughts. "I uh, forgot some dry cleaning. I'm gonna drop you off and pick it up."

"Ok," Maura said as they left the curb.

Jane did not tell her about the men in suits that had gotten into the car behind them to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of timeline housekeeping: this story begins in October, and then moves through the fall, and TJ is born in December. The Storrow Center collapse happens around the end of March, and then Maura gives her kidney to Cailin in April. This chapter skips ahead about six weeks to mid-June.


	27. Chapter 27

Jane pulled up to the entrance of MCI-Walpole, waved her badge to get through the gate, and watched June humidity roll off of the hood of her car, only half as hot as her anger. She took one of the spots reserved for law enforcement towards the front of the prison, wearing her meanest scowl when she walked through the doors and sent her weapon through security.

When they gave it back to her, she shoved it onto her belt, and growled "Detective Rizzoli, Boston PD badge number V-825," at the man behind the bulletproof glass of the reception counter. After a few more questions regarding her intentions, she was led by two armed guards to a visiting room, where she took a seat at the table. She didn't trust her body not to unfurl itself at the man walking toward the door in front of her.

Paddy Doyle.

He limped, but only just a little. He glowered at her as he had countless times before - like he could call for her death at any moment, even in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. Jane surveyed the guards that entered with him, with the both of them. Maybe he still could, if they were on his payroll. "Call 'em off," she said, putting her forearms on her thighs, folding her hands, and leaning toward him.

She looked like she'd kill him, too, if he made the wrong move.

He settled in his chair, rotating his shoulder to make his hands more comfortable in the chains that shackled his arms and legs together. "I only tolerate you because Maura asked me to," he said dismissively.

"You don't tolerate me at all - you don't have to because you're in here and I'm out there," Jane countered.

"Except for today," Paddy pointed out. His Irish blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Except for today," conceded Jane. "Call your boys off Maura. That's why I'm here."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked her. He switched from mirth to fear.

"The thugs you got followin' Maura,'' Jane said, "call 'em off, Paddy. I'm not askin' again."

"Is she ok? Is Maura alright?" Paddy asked, and there was an edge of pleading to it. "The only reason you're alive is to keep her safe. If she's not-"

"Simmer down. She's fine. But why are your guys following her? Are these the same guys that you sicced on Hope?"

He only stared back at her with realization. Then he raised his eyebrows at her. "Did you get a look at 'em?"

Jane caught on quick. "They're not your guys, are they?"

"I don't think you need me to answer that one for you, Rizzoli," Paddy said through a smirk.

"Why are the feds after Hope?" Jane really could turn any room into an interrogation room, and he had all but confirmed that the men in that car, and the men at Hope's door, were federal agents.

But, Paddy had been through dozens of interrogations. "I'm done here," he said. He started to rise, but she stood, too.

"No, wait a minute," she called after him, "why are they surveilling Maura?"

He left without answering her.

* * *

Maura looked up when she heard a knock on her office door, relieved to see Jane standing there with her knuckles against the wood. "Hi. Did you get your dry cleaning?"

"Hey," Jane said, and then her lips were in a thin line. "So, I lied. I didn't have to go get my dry cleaning."

Maura chuckled. She rose to meet Jane in the middle of the room. "What do you mean? Did you have another showing at the condo?"

"I uh, I went to see your father at Walpole," said Jane.

Maura wanted to laugh again, but Jane's face stopped her. "You're serious?"

"When we were leaving the clinic, I saw some guys in suits get into the car behind us. When I pulled away, they did too. When I dropped you off, they stopped following," Jane whispered, scanning their surroundings for eavesdroppers.

"And you thought they were Paddy's men," Maura extrapolated. She rubbed her palms together twice before lacing her fingers. "So you went to see him to ask why."

"I went to see him so he could call them off," Jane explained, touching Maura's elbow.

Maura stepped forward, didn't deny the touch. "I was so wrapped up in recovering from surgery that I didn't have time to think about him, too."

"I found out, while I was there, that they're not his guys. But they are the same guys that went to see Hope. Well, same group of guys," Jane said.

"Rival family?"

"The feds."

"What do the feds want with us?"

"I don't know, but I know someone who could find out," Jane said quietly. "You want me to do that?" Maura took several seconds to find Jane's eyes, and several more to nod once. Jane called in favors for her, stuck her neck on the line for her, without hesitation. Even when it could mean Detective Rizzoli's badge. "Alright. Give me a minute then."

When Jane marched over to Maura's desk and grabbed the landline receiver, punching in the five-digit code for a BPD extension, Maura turned around and watched her back. "Who are you calling?"

But, the person on the other end had already answered, apparently. "Hey Martinez, it's me. Can you come down to Maura's office? We got somethin' we need your help with. Thanks."

Within ten minutes, he appeared before them, knocking on the door in a way identical to Jane's. "You needed me for something?" he asked, all business.

" _Mira_ , _Rafa_. I'm about to ask you something crazy. So sit, would ya?" She half-smiled, in pain and in memory. The Spanish came out of its own accord, soft and almost natural-sounding in its new Sicilian home. She pointed to the couch.

He grinned brilliantly, his teeth showing. "A long time ago I agreed to never speak Italian if you agreed to never speak Spanish. We should honor that agreement, Jane."

Maura suddenly wanted to know everything about the two of them and their time together. Only half of the desire was jealousy; the other half was curiosity. "I think her accent is quite good," she said, walking over to the chair closest to the far wall.

"You have to think that," Martinez said as he winked at her.

"The only reason you didn't want me speaking Spanish is because Tatiana made me pretty good at it," Jane shot back. Maura smirked to herself when Martinez blushed.

" _Forsi se_ ," he admitted, and Maura raised her brows at his own effortless little Sicilian phrase. "You taught me pretty good, too," he said to Jane. "Now, why am I down here?"

"Still got contacts at the Bureau?" Jane asked pointedly. She took the couch cushion farthest from him, and couldn't help wondering if she'd made a mistake by leaving him and Maura so close together.

Martinez looked only at Maura when he answered. "I might."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Maura's got feds on her tail, and so does her mom. I saw them today at lunch. Do you think you could find out?"

"Who's your Mom?" Martinez asked.

"Dr. Hope Martin," Maura said. "She runs a clinic for at-risk mothers and children called MEND."

Martinez paled. "You're Hope Martin's daughter?"

Jane coiled immediately. "What?" she growled. Martinez turned to her for the first time and straightened his baby blue tie.

"You know what I know about her, Rizzoli?" he asked, tossing his head in Maura's direction.

"I still read the Globe every morning," Jane said, "but even if I didn't, I would know that he's her dad. I've had my fair share of run-ins with Doyle over Maura."

Martinez relaxed, but only a little. He ran fingers over his shaved head, back and forth. He smiled at Maura nervously. "Listen, I can't say much. Hell, I don't know much. But I was part of the task force building up the drug case against Doyle."

Jane was shocked. "Why are you here then? That's a career-making move."

Martinez shook his head and exhaled in a _whoosh_ of sound. "They didn't want anybody with BPD history anywhere near the case. Too many cops on the payroll, you know? Not to mention Maura's… _connection_. I guess they didn't want to take the chance."

"Jesus. I'm sorry," Jane apologized, sincerely. Martinez got up to close the door and the blinds, moving through the office like he'd been in it before.

"Don't be. They just wanted to make sure that the whole investigation didn't go _al garete._ I get it. And since when have you been worried about my career, huh?" He teased, this time winking at Jane. Then he sat back down. "Here's what I know. Organized crime was obviously also on the Doyle case. But, they were investigating MEND and Hope, too. And my task force was brought in on that angle."

"Oh my god," Maura exclaimed, "for what?"

"I don't really know. I didn't get very far before they shut me out. But it's got to be connected to Paddy," he said.

"Ok, Martinez. Thank you," Jane nodded to him. He nodded back, and then turned to Maura, giving her a winning smile. She smiled back at him, and he stayed put until Jane cleared her throat. "Out now please."

"Need a word with your wife in private? I get it, Jane. I'll see you around, alright?" Martinez said as he got up. Jane's mask of indifference was back in place, and so he exited without any more pleasantries.

"Why would the FBI be investigating my mother?" Maura asked again, more out of shock than anything.

"You should have seen Paddy's face when I went to go see him. He knows why," Jane said. She moved to the side of the couch closest to Maura and patted her knee.

Maura was deep in thought. "Ok. She started MEND in 1993. That's 20 years ago. Which means, if the investigation really is tied to Paddy, they were in contact after I was born."

"Maybe even when he was a fugitive," Jane agreed.

"What do I do?" Maura's next question was small and quiet.

"Nothing, babe," Jane replied. When Maura's face scrunched forward in annoyance and incredulity, she revised. "I mean, there's nothing you can do once they're surveilling you. But we know you're clean, so you've just gotta wait until the storm passes. I've got to go talk to the victim's roommates. You ok with that?"

Maura nodded. "Yes. Go, go. It's ok."

Jane stood, and then bent down to kiss Maura gently. Maura surprised her by pulling her close by the back of her head and allowing Jane's tongue inside. Jane moaned compulsively, placing her hands on the armrests on either side of Maura. Her knuckles turned white when Maura's palms dragged softly on either side of her face. "Fuck," was all that she could say when they broke.

"Thank you," Maura said. "For doing all of this for me today. For standing by me as I figure all of this out."

Jane pressed their foreheads together. "Course. I really do have to go," she whispered, but didn't move.

"I know," Maura affirmed. They locked eyes, and she showed something to Jane she hadn't since she had given up her kidney for her half-sister. Lust. "Jane."

"Yeah?" Jane was entranced, her pupils conquering her irises.

Maura arched her neck upwards so that her lips would brush against Jane's with every word. "Do you still want to taste it?"

* * *

At nearly 7:30 PM, Maura exited the elevators on the third floor to see Jane fuming at her desk. Frost and Korsak had left for the evening, having pulled an all-nighter the evening before, and that meant that she and Jane would be the only two in the room. All the better. "Jane?" she called when she walked through the homicide bullpen.

"What?" Jane asked shortly, not turning from her computer. Earlier in their friendship, Maura would have been burned by it. But, she knew now that if Jane was showing her mild annoyance, she had breathed fire around everyone else.

"What's wrong?" Maura asked, shelving her own information for the moment.

Jane leaned into her hands and sighed. "You remember I told you that we got my CI killed? Me and Martinez?"

"Yes," Maura said, elongating the word in confusion.

"I think he may have gotten our victim, killed, too," Jane grumbled. There was true sadness in her eyes. "But I'm not sure yet. I gotta do some more digging and confront him."

"I'm so sorry, Jane," Maura said, putting her hand on Jane's shoulder and squeezing.

"I'll figure it out," Jane said to dismiss her current problem. Then she swiveled in her chair to face Maura. "What did you need?"

"Cailin just called," explained Maura. "The feds just left Hope's house. And I've got to show you something. Come on."

Now Jane was confused, but she locked her computer and followed Maura wordlessly down the stairwell. She thought they would stop at the lobby, maybe even meet Cailin there, but when they made it down to evidence, she smirked. Maura took a few bobby pins out of the pocket of her jacket and began to tinker with the lock. "Just when I thought I'd seen everything," she whispered into Maura's ear huskily.

Maura jiggled the lock loose, and then unwrapped the chain from the fence. "I figured out how to do it when I was nine. My parents didn't want me watching TV, so they locked it up."

"The cat burglar thing was hotter before that tidbit of information," Jane said as Maura led her forward.

Maura ignored her. "It's over here."

"Ooh, you've been down here before," Jane exhaled, feeling a rush. "God, this is so unlike you, babe."

"Maybe not," Maura said as she shrugged. "I am the spawn of a mobster, after all."

"Well, is that why you come down here?" asked Jane. They stood in front of a shelf filled to the ceiling with boxes, and Maura pulled one out.

"When Paddy… got arrested, I started poking through all these files. They go all the way back to his father."

"Your grandfather," said Jane matter-of-factly.

"Yes." Maura was sad. And a little wistful.

"Hey, c'mon. You're not like him. You're not like any of 'em."

"Well, something in these files is gonna tell us why the feds were looking at me and Hope."

"Ok, well you got out the '93 box. That's the year Paddy became a fugitive," Jane poked through the box Maura had opened and pulled out a couple of file folders. She crossed one leg in front of the other while she leaned against the shelves opposite all of Paddy's boxes, her eyes severe as she scanned for details, anything that could help Maura. "There's not a lot here while he was on the run. But I bet the FBI has a ton."

Maura pulled a series of photographs out of the box. "Look. She came back once a year on my birthday." The photos were of a young Hope, crying at Maura's grave.

"Well, that's touching," said Jane. When Maura scoffed, she said, "Maura, she thought you were dead."

"Ok, but hear me out: what if she wasn't coming for me?" Maura posited.

"What do you mean?"

"I… have a hunch."

"Oh no. Here we go. I told you never to hunch. You're not made for hunching."

"Cailin told me that Paddy gave this to Hope on her 18th birthday, right? That would have been 1976." Maura pressed ahead.

"Ok, yeah. The year you were born," Jane followed.

"That's not possible because this scrimshaw commemorates something that was built in 1993."

"The year Paddy disappeared? She lied to Cailin?"

"Yes. And it was also the year that Hope was working as a relief doctor in a war-torn area, Sarajevo."

"Where she developed that fingerprinting technique."

"Mmhmm. So, I did some research, and I looked up photos on the internet of this bridge," said Maura, taking her necklace off so that Jane could get a better look.

Jane leaned in and nodded, pretending to regard it seriously. "Hmm. So this is what you've been doin' with all ya free time now that we don't have sex." Maura hit her arm with a file. "Ow, a'right. I'll be serious," Jane said through a laugh.

"It was near a secret tunnel that was built during the siege of Sarajevo by people trying to get humanitarian aid into the city," Maura continued, but she did step a little closer to Jane's side and ran her hand over her back, under her gray blazer. Maura shuddered when she accidentally grazed the handcuffs just above Jane's backside.

"Humanitarian aid? You think your mother helped build it?" Jane asked.

"They named it the Tunnel of Hope," Maura said, confirming her hypothesis.

"Jesus Christ," said Jane, genuinely floored.

"Paddy was a fugitive in 1993. He could have easily traveled to the Balkans."

"So you think Paddy and Hope met up in Sarajevo?"

"What I think is worse. Hope started MEND thanks to a two and a half-million dollar donation from an anonymous donor in 1993, Jane."

"Oh my god. That's why the feds are sniffing around. She took his dirty money. You're a genius," Jane said, looking at Maura in wonder, their faces inches apart.

"I am," replied Maura, taking the kiss offered to her. It was short and it was respectful. The opposite of what she wanted it to be.

"We have to tell her. We have to figure out why they're tailing you, too, and we have to try to help her save that clinic, Maura. It does way too much good here in the city." Jane was resolute. Maura saw love for Boston in Jane's eyes more than she saw any loyalty to Hope.

"I agree. Tomorrow we can. But it's late and we should go home," she said. She took the files out of Jane's hands and placed everything where it belonged before putting each box exactly where she had found it. Jane followed her out of evidence with renewed respect.

* * *

"I'm pretty sure Martinez was using our victim as a CI," Jane called into the ensuite of the bedroom as she sat on the armchair by the window, unzipping her boots. She grunted as she bent over to pull them off, her stiff muscles preventing her from getting a full stretch. "Actually that's not true. I know it. His card was in her belongings, and it had his safe word on it."

"How do you know that's what got her killed?" Maura's voice carried from behind the slightly-ajar door, over the sound of running water.

"I asked him. She was doing buys for him. Frost has audio of her and two or three BCU campus dealers," Jane said as she slumped back on the seat once she had completed her task. Her eyes started to close of their own volition and she wiggled her toes to get some of the feeling back.

"He certainly is a complicated man," Maura said. She sounded much closer now, but Jane only opened her eyes when she heard the metal clink of her belt buckle coming undone.

Maura knelt between her open knees, worked her button open and unzipped her fly. Maura was also wearing only a lacy pair of black underwear. Sweat flushed Jane's palms when she gripped the armrests of the chair. "What, uh, what are you doing?"

"It's only been six weeks, Jane," Maura quipped, her breath heavy between Jane's hips as it rolled hotly over her boxer briefs, "do you really not remember what this means?"

Jane gulped at Maura's manicured eyebrow rising up in good humor. "We-we don't have to. You don't have to."

"But I want to." Maura's words were puffs of smoke against the heat of Jane's belly as she kissed her way up, pushing her t-shirt away as she went.

"Yeah?" Jane asked huskily, her bravado coming back in slow waves, "what changed?"

"Yeah," Maura answered. She sucked on the skin just above abdominal muscles until she left a bruise. "You worked harder."

Jane winced, her breath coming out in an aroused hiss. "I love you," she said.

"Hush," Maura ordered, and she yanked Jane's pants and underwear down simultaneously. Jane was now exposed to the open air and Maura looked ready to strike. "Before I change my mind."

"What about you?" Jane almost slapped herself for asking, but the words were out before she could help it. Maura's fingernails were dragging lightly on the inside of her thighs and she groaned at the sensation.

Maura pulled back, tapping her index finger over her pursed lips. "Well, let's see. When we're done, you're going to take your face over there and I'm going to sit on it," she said, pointing her thumb to the bed behind her.

Jane shuddered. "O-ok," she said shakily, nodding in case Maura couldn't hear her muddled consent.

"Good," said Maura, and then she began.

" _Fuck,_ " Jane breathed out, the vowel in it long and wispy. " _Fuck,_ Maura," she said again, in case Maura didn't understand the first time how good her tongue felt swiping through her. There were four or five sinful, wet kisses that sounded _so good_ , too, that she grimaced when she heard them.

Maura knew it. Jane could feel her smirking against her. And it didn't matter, because Jane's pride was nowhere to be found - she just indulged in the feeling, the climbing pleasure that came from expert tongue flicks and suckling nips. "It… it ain't gonna be long," Jane warned. She bucked forward when Maura kissed her assent. As if to make it even shorter, two fingers slipped easily in, and the long, inelegant " _ugh…_ " that spilled out of Jane carried her through her orgasm.

"I'm sorry that took so long." Maura climbed her way up Jane's motionless legs until she could rest her knees on either side of Jane's hips and put her hands on her heaving chest. She kissed her softly as she whispered.

"That was, like, three minutes," Jane laughed breathlessly.

"You know what I mean," Maura said. "Thank you for waiting for me."

Jane sat up as best she could and pulled her t-shirt over her head. "You're welcome. But I'm still waiting," she responded, shifting so that Maura sat directly in her lap. Jane's hands were on Maura's spine, flat and protective, holding her in place as they kissed again, open mouthed and sloppy.

"Go," Maura said through a smile, "go to bed then."

Jane complied. She stood right after Maura and trotted to her side of the bed. Maura shook her head at Jane's childish smile and the way she crossed her ankles and her arms behind her head. "C'mere," Jane beckoned. Her eyes were soft and welcoming. Maura glared playfully, and then threaded her thumbs through the waist of her panties and started to shimmy them down. "Wait, wait," Jane stopped her, "leave 'em on for a little bit."

"That's not conducive-"

"No big words. Just trust me," Jane said. _What the hell_ , figured Maura, and took her place just over Jane's mouth, thighs just against her ears. She looked down expectantly. When Jane weaved two fingers into her underwear and stroked her, she moaned, hands shooting out for the headboard. "Jesus, you're ready," Jane cursed.

"As good as that feels, it's not what I wanted," Maura said, throwing her head back as Jane continued.

"That is not what trusting me sounds like. We're gonna do that, Maura. Have some patience," said Jane. And in order to prove her point, she moved her hand to Maura's behind, and then reached forward to pull her underwear taut.

" _Christ_ ," Maura finished Jane's curse from moments before, hers reedy and high before it broke into a sob. Jane was pulling the thin fabric and then letting it go slack, creating friction against wetness. The movement started slowly, and then picked up, and it felt amazing, but none of it was _Jane_. "If you don't touch me, it will be another six weeks before we do this again."

Jane swiped her tongue in long strokes over wet black lace, adding it to the repertoire of sensations. "Yes, ma'am," she snarked.

Maura huffed and pulled off her underwear in a fit of frustration. Jane laughed. "Don't laugh," Maura warned as she resumed her place.

Jane made a show of inhaling deeply when Maura found her way back on top. "Well shut me up, then," she challenged.

Maura obliged and lowered herself. "Oh, god, Jane," she yelped when they met skin to skin. She let herself get used to the feeling of wet gliding on wet and Jane eating everything Maura put on her plate, keeping her body still.

Soon, though, it got to be too much and she needed to move. Jane sensed it, placed good grips on each hip and encouraged Maura to wind her way to climax. So, she ground down, slow and deep, for long minutes until she shook and screamed into the shell of her own hand.

Jane patted Maura's thigh and helped her dismount once she regained enough strength to move. "Can you make it?" she teased when Maura flopped into a heap next to her.

"That was…" Maura said against the bone of Jane's shoulder.

"Somethin', huh?" Jane replied into Maura's hair, her voice hoarse.

"Mmhmm. Something we should have done weeks ago."

"As I tried to tell you. Repeatedly. I should have dragged Hope's ass down here long ago if this is what the result is." Jane smiled tiredly, but at her words, Maura propped up on her elbow so that she could see Jane's face.

"She's being investigated, Jane," said Maura.

"Yeah, probably for money laundering," Jane's tone changed. She patted Maura's hand, the one resting on her clavicle. "And I bet it was drug money, if Martinez was lookin' at them."

"Are you sure we should tell her?" Maura was conflicted. Hope had only taken from her. Aside from her life, she'd given Maura nothing, including a reason to trust her. And now, Hope was in some way responsible for the men surveilling Maura.

"MEND'll collapse if we don't. I already told you I don't like her, but that doesn't mean that those people should suffer if we can try to make sure the clinic is safe," Jane answered.

Maura nodded slowly as she accepted the truth. It was the right thing to try and save MEND. "And here we are, giving her yet another thing she doesn't deserve," she said, lying back down so that she and Jane were shoulder to shoulder. The whirring ceiling fan brought much welcomed air over her body, helped her to think in the summer heat.

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it?" Jane turned her head and frowned in sympathy. Then she kissed Maura sweetly before sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Maura asked her. "It's almost 10:30."

Jane sighed as she stood, grabbed a new pair of underwear from her dresser, black and identical to the ones she was wearing before, and slipped them on. She ran her thumbs under the waistband several times until she was satisfied with the way it sat on her skin and the way they clung to her thighs. "She's not gonna admit anything unless we have proof, unfortunately. You saw her today. And the only person I know that can get us financial records in time is Martinez, so I'm gonna suck it up, give him a call, and then stay up with him while he phones in every favor at the Bureau he has," said Jane. She rummaged in her sleep drawer for a suitable t-shirt, satisfied when she found a black BPD training tee and pulled it over her head. "He'll want coffee," she grunted, shuffling back over to the bed and leaning a hand on the headboard so that she could lower her face close enough to Maura's.

Maura took the hint and closed the distance with a kiss. "After everything that happened between the two of you today?"

"Yup," Jane confirmed. "It'll probably take all night. Get some sleep."

"You're having him come here?" asked Maura, sitting up herself.

Jane was already at the doorway. "Yeah… I don't really want to go out."

"And that's what you're wearing?" Maura got up and turned into the walk-in closet, coming out with a pair of silk pajamas and undergarments in her arms.

"He's seen me as a hooker, Maura. I don't think this is going to be what does it for him." Jane looked down at herself and scoffed.

"He's also seen you in nothing, Jane. I'm coming out there with you," said Maura with a pointed look. She maintained it through her whole time getting dressed.

Jane smirked. She supposed she could get used to this kind of jealousy. "A'right. Let's get some intel, then." She opened the door and bowed dramatically to let Maura pass.

* * *

The next afternoon, Jane opened the door of interrogation room 3 for Maura to reveal Hope Martin pacing inside. After Maura walked in and took a seat at the table, so did Hope, and Jane placed a hefty stack of papers between them.

"Why am I here?" Hope demanded to know. Her knitted Chanel jacket and all-black dress gave her an air of mourning. She frowned as if she were about to cry.

"Take a look at that," said Jane, pointing to the fruits of her and Martinez's labor the night before.

"They're the financial statements from MEND," Maura added angrily. Her face was stoic and unyielding.

"And why are you looking at them?" asked Hope.

Jane shook her head. "I don't think we're the only ones lookin'," she said.

"I don't know what you mean," Hope shot back.

Maura, for one, tired of the games. "Who gave you the money to start MEND?"

"I don't know," said Hope, "but I will be forever grateful to him… or her. Because, thanks to that money, we've been able to save thousands of women and children."

"I need to know. Was it Paddy?" Maura asked bluntly.

"I have sick patients I need to see," Hope replied as she rose from her seat. Maura rose with her, but Jane stayed put.

She looked up at Hope with an icy stare. "You won't be able to help them if you're named as a co-conspirator. Is that why the feds are putting pressure on you? Were you laundering money for him?"

Hope sat back down, dazed by Jane's simple, but effective, statement: MEND could definitely collapse. "I can't…"

"Can't what?" Maura nearly shouted.

"I can't involve you."

"I am involved!" Maura told her, "they're following me, too."

Hope studied her, then swiveled to Jane for confirmation. Jane just glared back. "What? Oh god, Maura. No. I need to see him, and I need to talk to him. I need to make this stop."

Jane shared a quick glance with Maura, who was clearly irate. "I can make that happen," Jane said to Hope. "But you'll go with us and you'll go now."

Hope nodded. "Yes."

* * *

The car ride to Walpole was an awkward one. Hope sat in the back of Jane's unmarked, silent, while Jane and Maura made as much small talk as they could in hushed tones. For the second time in as many days, Jane drove through the guard gate. She parked on the side of the building this time, affording them a bit of privacy.

She cut the engine, and then turned to Hope. "This is a maximum security prison. There's gonna be strict safety protocols we have to follow. Normally it would be no more than one person with an inmate at any given time, but they'll bend the rules for me. That means you have to be extra careful, a'right? Mind your business and do as you're told, and you'll be fine. Whatever you do, do not lunge over that table, do not attempt to touch him in any way."

"I understand, Jane," Hope said quietly. "There won't be any issues. Thank you for doing this."

"No problem. Just do the right thing. And stay put," Jane unbuckled her seatbelt and slammed the driver door shut.

"Stay put? In here?" Hope asked Maura, who only looked forward through the windshield, and not at her mother.

"I imagine she just wants to open your door for you," Maura said, and as if on cue, Hope's door opened, and then Maura's. Jane waited for them both, and when they were out, shut both of their doors.

Hope watched Maura take Jane's hand naturally, interlace their fingers as if it were instinctual to do so. Jane marched forward as if she didn't notice and surely didn't mind, and the two of them stayed united until they reached the entrance of the prison and were buzzed in. The irony that she was about to visit the only person she had felt remotely as strongly about, in a holding cell, was not lost on her. In another life, Paddy would have been her everything, would have been her husband. They would have raised Maura, and Maura would have been everything that she already was, but they would have been happy.

That fantasy seemed universes away when they finally approached the holding cell.

Maura entered first. Paddy sat, already anxiously awaiting her arrival, having been told that she was coming. Jane stepped in second, standing like a guard dog against the far wall and saying nothing.

"Maura…" he said fondly, his eyes alight with love for her.

But Maura was hard, and bitter. "Don't talk to me," she spat. "Talk to her."

Paddy was confused until Hope herself walked through the door and Maura closed it behind her.

Seeing him filled her with an exquisite amalgam of rage and longing. It mixed low in her gut and she let herself get drunk off of it. "You told me she was dead. You told me that our baby was dead," she said, tears already falling. Was she crying from anger? From sadness? Or from the compulsory joy she felt every time she saw him? She couldn't possibly know.

"I had to, to protect you," he said coolly. His eyes were alight with love for her, too. It was deeper and darker than even his love for Maura.

"Why?" Maura asked him, standing directly behind her mother.

"My father would have killed you both," Paddy shouted, the first true sign of emotion that he had ever shown her.

Jane stepped forward. "You have another chance to protect them, Paddy."

Immediately his walls were up. "How's that, Rizzoli?"

Maura smoothed her hands against her belly and closed her eyes to draw strength from the next breath she took, slow and measured. "You're going to plead guilty," she said finally, looking right into his eyes. Hope stiffened.

He looked between Maura and Hope, and opened his chest. His voice got quiet again, but it was soft for them. "You know, I'd kill for either of you. But I will never plead guilty," he said, knowing he was breaking their hearts.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a chapter a day until we're finished. Seven left.

"You know, usually I hate it when I wake up with a face inches from mine." Jane could only open one eye, she was so sleepy. She curled her upper lip with the effort, though, and her pretty teeth were all on display.

"Usually?" Maura had been awake for a while. She had one pillow tucked between her head and her arm, and she reached for Jane in the way that she stared at her.

Jane reached back by speaking. "None of 'em were you. Now the view's not so bad," she said, and Maura put fingertips to her smile. That woke her up enough to check the clock. _5:57 AM._ "It's early, kid."

"I'm not going into work today," Maura whispered. The sun had just barely risen and she felt safe admitting something that made her feel weak.

Jane kissed the pads of her fingers, sloppy from sleepiness and intimacy. "Probably for the best. But I'll miss you."

Maura couldn't help the smirk that took her over. "What's with you lately? You're being very sappy."

"Pickin' and choosin', Maura. That's what's with me," Jane said simply, as if Maura were supposed to know that that meant.

"What?" Maura asked, even though her raised eyebrows and slightly open mouth conveyed enough confusion without it. When Jane leaned forward and kissed her chastely, but long enough to make her point, she realized. "Ah. Commitment."

"Gross, right? Don't tell anyone," said Jane teasingly.

"Your secret's safe with me. For a little while. Eventually we do have to get married. You know, in front of people," Maura sighed, and her words sounded sweet, but Jane saw her sorrow.

"Yeah we do. But first thing's first. I gotta go in early to get prepped for trial one last time. You should call your mother so that you don't feel so alone."

"My mother doesn't want to hear about Paddy's RICO case, Jane. She hasn't even come back to the states since her accident."

"Not that mother," Jane said seriously.

Maura broke their trance then. She glanced down to her own body, a rough shape under the covers, and bit her lower lip. "I'm not going to call Hope. It would be too hard."

Jane nodded. "Ok. All I'm sayin' is she's probably the only other person on this planet who knows what you're goin' through."

"You're very thoughtful. But don't worry, I won't tell anyone that, either," Maura said, and then looked back up to Jane.

"Much appreciated. I've gotta get up, a'right? It takes me a little bit longer to get court ready," Jane said, ending her statement with a scrunched nose and a tiny huff of disdain.

"Mmm. But it's worth it. For me at least," Maura teased. When Jane blushed, she said, "I'll have espresso ready for you."

"And it's not even Saturday!" Jane said in faux excitement, shooting out of bed to avoid the smack headed straight for her.

* * *

Barry Frost was in the middle of straightening his tie when he heard the ding of the elevator bell. When Jane strode out in a flowy silk shirt and gray pencil skirt, he buried the tiny pangs of the old attraction he felt for her. When he saw that she was also wearing black close-toed heels, he decided it would be best if he just looked at her face. "You look… a little naked," he ribbed her in order to hide his blush.

"Excuse me?" she asked him, blazer over her arm and keys around her finger. She threw the keys on her desk and the jacket over the back of her chair.

"I can see your knees," he said, nodding to them quickly.

Korsak chuckled from his desk. "You want me to write him up for harassment?"

Jane smirked to herself. "Yes." She knew what men thought about her in clothes like this. She'd used it to her advantage a thousand times. The clothes she wore now were a very potent channel for her sexuality. What she lacked in a demure personality, she could make up for in legs that went on for days, and if she couldn't make men do what she wanted with her words, she could with her long bones. When she wanted to, of course.

Case in point, Korsak. "You do look nice, though," he said. "I always like you in your court outfits."

She smiled at the complement, ham-handed though it was. "You can write yourself up, too."

He shrugged. "You hear about Cal?" He showed her a coffee can money receptacle he had made.

She slumped into her chair and groaned. "Shit. Cal Ghetts died?"

Frost frowned, but confirmed it. "I wonder how Mrs. Ghetts' is doing. Nice lady, I always see her in church."

Jane was still too blindsided to acknowledge him. "How'd he die, Korsak?"

"He was mugged last night in Atlantic City," said Korsak.

"Last night? Didn't he just retire?"

"A month ago," Korsak replied. "Thirty years in the arson unit and he gets shot on vacation."

"Well fuck," Jane said into the shell of her hands as they rubbed her face.

Frost saw more than just sadness over the death of a former colleague there. "Nervous about testifying?" He asked gently, glancing over at their evidence board for the Paddy Doyle case. "I've only done it once."

Jane nodded. "But all Cavanaugh and I have to do is establish chain of custody to get Paddy's ledger admitted into evidence."

Korsak straightened his brown sport coat and walked over to her as she flipped through her copy of it. "I'll be glad when you get rid of that copy of his damn book."

Frost, however, was clearly interested. He leaned on his own desk and reached for it. "Can I see it?"

"No," Jane scoffed, until she realized he was serious. "And you don't want to."

"Yes I do," he said honestly. They both stared at him blankly. "Wait. You guys didn't read it?"

"I'm from Southie, Frost," said Korsak, "for all I know, I got cousins in that book."

Jane pointed to a stack of papers on Frost's desk. "I see you downloaded a copy of the federal indictment."

He thumbed through it. "It's interesting. You ever tried a RICO case before?"

"Nah," she said.

"Me either," said Korsak.

"Look at all these counts… loan-sharking, bookmaking, trafficking in narcotics, oh, and 15 counts of murder," Frost listed the greatest hits.

"Did Martinez tell you guys that he was supposed to be working the narcotics angle of the case?" Jane said quietly.

Both of her partners leaned in and shook their heads. "Hell no," Korsak said, a little put out, but mostly shocked. "What happened?"

"FBI booted him off the task force because he had ties to BPD. Apparently, they didn't want anyone from here within a hundred yards of the case," she said.

"Makes sense. Who knows how many of our brothers in blue are also on Paddy's payroll," Korsak reasoned.

Frost looked around them as if the people in question could be identified just by sight. "Damn, that's crazy. What I always wondered is, how did the feds establish that Paddy ordered all this stuff? Ordered the hits?"

"RICO is about proving that Paddy was the head of a crime syndicate, and he didn't have to pull the trigger himself," Jane said, standing. She walked over to their board and pointed to an older man just under the picture of Doyle at the top. "With Donovan's testimony, the government can prove Paddy was behind fifteen murders. It's a big deal for a lieutenant to turn."

Frost scratched his chin. "So why's the book important?"

"It corroborates his story. He's the only guy alive that can tie Paddy to all those murders," Korsak answered.

Cavanaugh appeared in the doorway then, and knocked on it for their attention. "Rizzoli, gonna need you in my office. AUSA's here."

Frost and Jane shared a look of comradery before she started her slow march there. He clapped her on the back. "Good luck. You don't have to say a word if you just show the judge those knees."

Jane rolled her eyes. "The judge is a woman."

He actually laughed. "Aren't you dating a woman? Clearly the attraction to your knees is not limited to one gender."

She smiled at him in thanks, for treating her the same as he would treat anyone else. "Good point. See you soon."

* * *

Maura cursed the sound of the doorbell as she fiddled with her espresso maker. She hoped that since it was minutes after Jane left, it would be her, having forgotten something. Then she wouldn't have to feel anxiety about opening the door in a cozy oversized sweater and tight black yoga leggings.

Hope stood there instead, and all of Maura's anxieties came to the fore. "Hope," she said quietly, with a sad smile.

Hope held up two bags of organic, fair trade African coffee. "I was going to leave these at your door, but then I saw your car."

"Come in," said Maura, moving aside.

"We always said we were going to have coffee, before all of this," Hope said as she followed Maura to the kitchen island. She hadn't been back since Cailin had escaped home to confront Maura some eight months before, and the atmosphere felt heavy even as the summer sun poked through the living room windows. "Is Angela here?"

"No, she's in Newark, visiting her sister. I am playing hooky," Maura said. "I was just about to make myself some espresso."

Hope saw the espresso machine on the counter and recognized it immediately. "Ah, La Pavoni. I had one once. _La Pavoni_ was founded in Milan in 1905…"

Maura smiled. "By _Desiderio Pavoni_ , uh, in a little workshop on _Via Parini_. Don't tell Jane that I bought this for almost a thousand dollars. She would kill me."

Hope laughed, and it made Maura laugh too. "I would think she'd make an exception since it's such a fine piece of Italian machinery. A fellow countryman's accomplishment."

"Jane's a southerner. Whose family hasn't lived in the country for almost a hundred years. She'll care much more about the price tag, trust me," Maura said, handing Hope a small espresso cup full of coffee.

"You two are not so different, you know. Your father's family came here around that time, too," Hope replied, and then she sniffed the coffee in her hand with pleasure. "Hmm, let's see. El Salvador Miravalle, and I also smell Brazil, Fazenda Cachoeria."

"That's amazing," Maura said genuinely, at the way her mother could pick apart each component of their drink.

Hope winked. "Where do you think you came from? Cailin puts goopy syrup in hers. No idea where she came from."

"She's nineteen," Maura reasoned. "You know, I hate to admit it, but I was addicted to corn syrup at that age."

Hope chuckled. "I wish I'd known you then," she said, unashamed of her own vulnerability. "And I wish that you had known him. Who he is now, who is on trial for being, that is not the man I fell in love with, not the man who fathered you."

"How did you meet?" It sounded like such a normal question to ask, but it was burdened by all of Maura's history when she asked it.

"I was studying on the Yard, and I saw him drawing me. So, we started talking. I found him to be… soulful and interesting. If a little brusque at first," Hope said, sipping more of her coffee.

"And then you started dating?" Maura pressed.

"Pretty shortly after that. We were friends first. He was so easy to talk to, and if there was something I wanted to talk about that he didn't know, he learned about it, and then came back to me, armed to the teeth with information. I found that charming. What about you?"

"Me? I first met him when he broke into my morgue to confirm that he was my father," Maura chuckled nervously. She still shuddered when she thought about how he had kidnapped her and had her tied up, even if only for the van ride to his hideout.

"No, I meant you and Jane. I've told you about how I met your father. I want to hear your story. I want to know more about you," Hope had somehow found boldness in her desire for Maura, something that had been lacking in their relationship up until this point.

Maura felt warm with it. "Well, there's not much to tell. We met at work." Hope only raised her eyebrows over her cup to say that such an answer was definitely not juicy enough. "We met first when she was in the drug unit. I had mistaken her for an actual sex worker in the line at the cafe and tried to get her to up her vitamin D intake. She didn't take it well."

Hope laughed airily and loudly at that. "I'm assuming she was undercover," she said.

"She was," Maura laughed, too, at the absurdity of it, "and she was quite rude. But the next morning, she had somehow found out who I was and came down to the morgue with an apology. And an offer to take me out for a beer. I refused because I hated beer, but she looked so distraught that I wasn't going to go with her and I've been in love with her ever since."

Hope beamed proudly. "It doesn't hurt that she looks like that either, does it?"

"No," Maura agreed. "Definitely not."

"And you started dating after her failed attempt to take you out?"

"No, we were best friends for a long time. We just recently decided to start a relationship. Less than a year ago," Maura explained.

Hope was impressed. "What an adult beginning. Very diplomatic. What was the tipping point?"

Maura colored. How much did she say? How much did she tell Hope about Paddy's shooting and the events following it? Should she tell her that it was Jane who put a bullet in him? "We started having sex," she said, in one way as blunt as she could be, and in another, obfuscating most of the details.

Hope sputtered on the sip of espresso she had just taken, and she blushed too, smiling wryly. "That sounds a little more normal," she teased. "She seems difficult to resist."

"She is, but she is so passionate and loving and intelligent that I wouldn't have been able to anyway. She told me I should call you today, because you would be the only one who knows what I'm going through. I said I wouldn't, but something tells me that she was right."

"She's very perceptive. You know, I think about what might have been a lot, Maura. I think about what it would have been like to raise you, with your father. Because he was those things, too. He was thoughtful and smart, and unbelievably kind. And that sounds crazy now, I know," Hope said quietly, setting her drink down to put a hand over Maura's.

"I think about what might have been, too," Maura removed her hand gracefully, using it to tuck her hair behind her ear. "I've never said this to anyone; it could easily be misinterpreted. But, I've caught him looking at me, and I see that man." She saw the indulgent smile on Hope's face and tried to ignore it, ignore the feelings they both so clearly still had for Doyle. So, she reached over to grab one of the bags of coffee Hope had brought, pressing her forearm directly onto the blistering hot steam wand of the machine. "Ow! Oh that hurt," she exclaimed, recoiling instantly.

Hope was at her side in two steps. "Let me see," she said, turning Maura's forearm upwards.

"Oh, it's fine," Maura dismissed it, but she flushed when she smelled the subtleties of her mother's perfume, felt the proximity of her arms.

"The steam wand is 240 degrees, Maura. You're not fine," Hope said, inspecting. "Go. Run this under cold water."

Maura sighed, and went to the sink. "I have some extra bandages in that drawer," she said.

"Actually, I prefer hemostatic trauma gauze," said Hope. She pulled a kit from her bag and took some out.

"What, you carry it with you?" Maura was intrigued.

"Since 1988. I took care of Saddam's burn victims in northern Iraq." Hope applied gentle pressure to the adhesive she had placed over Maura's burn, squeezing her forearm lightly, just for some extra comfort. "There. That's not too bad."

"No," Maura agreed. After a few seconds, she couldn't help herself. "Are you going to the trial?"

"No, I can't watch them put him away," Hope confessed.

"Do you think you'll have to testify? I mean, about MEND?"

"No. It seems that the FBI has more pressing things to do than to shut down an international aid organization."

"So, you're not worried that someday they'll just come in and seize the 2.5 million dollars that Paddy gave you to start MEND?"

Hope didn't back away, but she frowned and her gaze turned grave. "I will talk with you about anything but that. The less you know, the safer you are. I know you don't approve of what I've done."

Maura shook her head. "Paddy terrorized an entire community. That's how he got that money."

"But that money ultimately saved the lives of a lot of innocent people," Hope argued.

"Yeah, but you can't forget that it also cost the lives of a lot of innocent people," Maura's features were just as set as her mother's.

"What Paddy did is indefensible, and maybe what I've done is, too," Hope said, signalling the end of their discussion. "There. All better," she said, rubbing Maura's arm before letting it go.

* * *

Jane bounded through the house midmorning, her heels clomping against the hardwood floors. She stuck her head in each room on the first level, and then took to the stairs. "Maura!" she called out, impatient.

"In here!" she heard from the yoga room. She pulled open the screen, fashioned like a shoji, and frowned when she saw Maura on her knees and bent forward over them, her forehead on the mat below.

"What are you doing?" Jane asked, standing in the doorway, still in her court clothes.

"Child's pose. It's good for indigestion," Maura explained.

"Never in a million years did I think I would have a yoga room," Jane said as she looked around and stepped in.

"No shoes," Maura reminded her.

"Sorry." Jane kicked off her heels and got on her knees next to Maura. "Do you want me to chant something to ward off the evil shoe spirits?"

"Couldn't hurt," Maura chuckled. "Come join me. Child's pose is also good for your lumbar spine. Should reduce numbness in your lower extremities."

Jane slumped forward gracelessly. "Oh yeah," she said, muffled by the bamboo mat on the floor. "That feels great. I could do this all day."

Maura moved behind her, pulled at the crease between Jane's abdomen and hips with one hand, and pushed down on the curve of her back with the other. Jane grunted in release and Maura smirked. "The judge would issue a bench warrant for you if you did." She pressed again, harder this time, and Jane winced.

"Shit!" she yelped. When she recovered, she sat up straighter than she could have before. "I uh, I got your text. So… you and Hope geeked out over coffee? That sounds nice."

Maura sighed, sitting next to her, still on her knees. "It wasn't. I gave her a hard time. You know, she's saved thousands of innocent people who were caught in wars and natural disasters, but…" she trailed off.

"But you just can't get over the fact that her humanitarian organization only exists because she took Paddy's dirty money?" Jane said.

"Exactly."

"Show me a yoga pose that ends all problems," said Jane. "We could use one."

"Mmm," Maura thought, stretching, "We'd have to move to the yoga colony in Shivajinagar, Pune."

"Pune?" Jane said, swishing the word around in her mouth, "I'm not moving to Pune."

Maura took a swig from her water bottle and smiled. Jane's face was so soft and so trained on her that she couldn't help but put her hands on it. When she did, Jane closed her eyes to revel in the touch. "Do you miss your father?" Maura asked her.

"Yeah, I do," Jane answered. She blushed with shame at the admission. "You think if I tracked him down in Florida and forced myself to watch him snuggle with his slutty blonde girlfriend that I wouldn't miss him so much?"

"I wish you wouldn't call women that. But no," said Maura. "What makes you think she's blonde?"

"They're always blonde," Jane snarked, and Maura laughed.

"My father, my adoptive one," she said after their giggles died down, "he cheated."

"Well, we have more in common than I thought, baby. I'm sorry," Jane commiserated. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen," Maura answered. Then she turned to Jane and made sure that their eyes were locked for her next statement. "I walked in on him, with my best friend's mother. Well, I actually walked in on him buttoning up his shirt afterwards, but the implications were clear."

"That had to be awful."

Maura shrugged. "Sure. But then, he begged me to keep it a secret from my mother. From everyone. And to this day, I've kept it." She felt Jane frown against her hands.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jane growled, "you were a child, Maura. He really made you not tell anyone?" When Maura nodded, she cursed again. "What a fucker. Sorry, I don't know him. But, Christ."

"It's ok," Maura assured her, pressing her own lips together so that she wouldn't sob. A few tears slipped down her cheeks anyway. "Don't cheat on me," she said quietly, and even though she smiled as she said it, Jane heard the begging. Maura heard it, too, as it tumbled out. "Or turn out to be the head of a crime family," she tried to joke, to save a little bit of her pride, but it fell flat with the break in her voice.

Jane stayed put, knowing Maura wouldn't want arms around her without asking first. But, she leaned into the thumbs stroking her cheeks with all her might. "I won't. On either count. Maura?" she paused, waiting until they looked at one another again, "I won't."

Maura nodded swiftly and then swiped at her eyes. They shared a few moments of poignant silence as she went back to yoga. Jane's phone buzzed with a text message. "You going to get that?"

Jane pulled it from its clip. "Ok, I gotta go to court," she said, rising slowly.

Maura glanced back at her. "I'm coming with you."

"You sure? You don't have to do that," Jane said. Maura reached up for her, and so she put her arm out for help. Maura grasped it and stood up, too.

"Yes, I do. That man is my father, and I have to see this through."

* * *

Maura had never sat on this side of the courtroom before, in the spectator seating. She was always the expert witness, the professional, the sought-after opinion. Therefore, she spent most of her time on the witness stand. One felt power there, if one knew what one was asked to talk about. To be in an elevated seat and facing both the jury and the spectators imbued her with confidence. Boston had some of the country's oldest and most ornate courthouses, and thus some of the best witness stands, but the one they were in now was modern, understated. It accentuated how small she felt as she watched Jane testify. Not even her leather jacket, skin tight red sleeveless dress, Louboutin red bottoms, and gold box chain could console her.

AUSA King, the man that had been prepping Jane at the station for this moment over countless weeks, approached the stand. "Can you describe the location in question, Detective?"

"Yeah, the Boston Cemetery," answered Jane, her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap.

"Mmhmm. And can you tell us what you found there?" King asked.

"A plastic bag with a blue ledger in it."

"Detective, is this the ledger that you found?" King held up the book in question, in a clear evidence bag.

"Yes," said Jane.

"Thank you. No further questions," King responded, and then Jane was dismissed. Paddy watched her as she walked back to the bench where Maura sat, running his eyes from her toes to the crown over her head before staring straight at his daughter.

Maura wondered whether or not she imagined the challenge and the apology there.

Lieutenant Cavanaugh Jane and Maura followed AUSA King out of the courtroom after the rest of the witnesses had been called and they had been dismissed. "Ok, we're off to a good start. Thank you both," he said.

However, just as they exited, Frost and Korsak came running up, out of breath and pale. "What? What is it?" asked Jane.

"Your phones were off. Jackie Donovan is dead," Korsak said, gulping in gallons of air after having hoofed it up the stairs.

"What?!" Jane shouted, loud enough that other court-goers turned towards her.

"The US Marshal's car he was in was t-boned by a semi on Congress and Atlantic Avenue," said Frost, "about ten minutes ago."

Maura gasped. "That's just around the corner!"

Jane sagged with the weight of the information. "Fuck. Paddy got to him."

"It looks like it," said Korsak. "Two US Marshals are dead, too."

"So what does this mean for the trial?" Maura asked.

"It means that Paddy won the first round," Jane answered. King could only nod in agreement as the five of them stood around each other, numb.


	29. Chapter 29

Both Jane and Maura stood in front of the television behind Korsak's desk, glued to the news coverage of the trial.

" _And in a twist that legal pundits will be talking about for years to come, the judge granted bail for the alleged head of the Southie crime family, Paddy Doyle,_ " a reporter's standard American accent bled into the squad room, and Jane shook her head at the footage of Paddy walking out of the courtroom a (semi-) free man.

"You believe he got bail? After all he's been accused of?" she said.

Korsak was behind his desk, looking up at the TV. "King somehow finagled a 48-hour delay, but I don't know what kind of magic he's gonna conjure up. He certainly can't produce another Jackie Donovan. Not in two days," he said.

Paddy's lawyer waltzed up to the microphones at the courthouse, his client smug behind him. " _The federal government has been skating on thin ice for a long time, and today they fell in,"_ he said. " _Clearly the prosecution wasn't ready to proceed."_

After he finished his remarks, the news cameras panned to Paddy leaving the courthouse, shaking hands with dozens of people who had gathered to see him get released.

"Why are they doing that? Applauding him?" Maura asked with contempt.

"They're from Southie," Korsak answered truthfully. "If Paddy's out, you want to be on his good side."

"He can't get away with this," Maura stated, more as a wish to herself than a proclamation.

"I would've said that yesterday. I don't know about today." And with that, Korsak left his desk to attend to some loose ends.

Jane turned to Maura, squeezing the duffle bag in her hands. "I gotta change. I'll meet you downstairs?"

Maura nodded.

* * *

Jane entered the morgue almost an hour later, in a dark navy button-up shirt and gray slacks. Her boots hit the ground harder than her heels did; she sounded more like herself. "You get 'em to talk?" she said when she saw Maura, still in the day's court clothes, scanning the body of Jackie Donovan.

"Oh yeah," scoffed Maura. "Can't get him to stop. He said my father hired a couple of teamsters to run their truck into the Marshals' car. He said it was pretty quick, except for the one who bled out before the ambulance arrived."

Jane clicked her tongue. "Poor guys. Just doing their jobs."

"And how are we supposed to do ours? I mean, he's out, Jane. How did this happen?" Maura turned to face her then, taken by Jane's appearance. When Jane eclipsed her in pumps, she felt a feminine appreciation for Jane's beauty, her form. But when Jane eclipsed her like _this_ , sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, belt outfitted with weaponry and the BPD shield, she felt desire.

It was a want that wrung her heart of blood and sent it speeding down her aorta, a highway to her hips. It doubled her heart rate and halved her inhibition.

Jane noticed because she always did. With a compliment, she told Maura she understood. "How? He's always eight chess moves ahead. Where do you think you got your IQ points?" She stepped forward and ran her index finger over the chain on Maura's neck, pulling it just centimeters away from skin. "He'll only be out for a couple of days, and they got him wearing an ankle bracelet. I'm sure the feds are watching his every move."

"I feel like I'm falling, Jane. Like I can't get a grip on anything. I haven't felt like this since you and I were fighting," Maura confessed. She sighed as she said it, closed her eyes to concentrate on the subtle tug at her neck as her chain rocked back and forth in Jane's grasp. Then it fell back to her clavicle, suddenly still.

"I know," said Jane, kindly. "You haven't really caught a break since Hope rolled into town. But one way or another, this will all be over soon."

"You're right, I-"

Before she could finish, Korsak and AUSA King burst into the suite. "We may have something," King said. He had the first smile on his face they had seen since before the trial began. He rummaged through a folder to pull out what exactly he had found.

"Well, that's good news. Shouldn't we go up to the squad room?" asked Jane.

"We can't, Jane," Korsak replied, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Cavanaugh can't know about this," he said.

"Calvin Ghetts investigated the fire that killed his family," said King.

Jane frowned. "What does Cal have to do with Paddy Doyle?"

King became solemn, quiet. "We were about to make a deal with Ghetts to testify against him."

"Cal was dirty? Christ," cursed Jane. Then her eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Did Paddy send someone to Atlantic City to take him out before he could talk?"

"We think so," replied King.

"The FBI thinks Paddy paid Ghetts to burn down buildings in the nineties, falsify arson reports - all so Paddy could buy condemned property for a song," said Korsak. "But they could never prove it."

"Not until Calvin Ghetts told me in a phone call before he died that he had saved evidence that could prove Paddy was behind that fire," King said.

"Cal set the fire and you were granting him immunity in exchange for the evidence in his testimony," Jane reasoned.

"Right," said King.

As they talked, Maura fumed. The AUSA's discussion of the facts of murder sounded cavalier to her, and his intended actions with Cal Ghetts sounded even worse. She looked at Jane, so strong and so independent, and imagined her broken by her death, at the hands of a colleague. If Maura died, if she were killed, Jane would cave into herself. Jane would become isolated, broken, unfixable. And they weren't acknowledging that it happened to their lieutenant. They weren't considering his pain. "You were going to make a deal with a man who killed a detective's wife and baby?"

Unexpectedly, it was Jane who stepped in. "Maura, sometimes you gotta dance with the devil to get a conviction, a'right? Especially for two capital murders."

"So you're going to seek the death penalty," Maura said to King.

He nodded. "If you're conflicted, Doctor, I won't ask you to help investigate this."

"I'm a physician, Mr. King. I don't wish death on anyone. But that doesn't mean I won't help you."

Jane narrowed her gaze. "Wait a minute. Help you with what? You don't have a case without Cal Ghetts. He's dead."

"I don't have any more time. I need you to find Cal's evidence," King begged.

"What are we looking for?" Jane asked.

"I don't know, alright? All we have are Cal's arson files. Maybe there's something there."

"Yeah, but what? You had twenty years and your own task force to make an arson connection between them. Now you want us to find something in 36 hours?" Jane grew more irate by the second.

"I'm not gonna lie to you. It's a Hail Mary, detective," King said. He exhaled slowly.

"Do I look like Randy Moss to you? You're gonna have to give me more than that."

"I don't have anything more. Just please do what you can."

* * *

"Thanks for going with Frost to Mrs. Ghetts' place while me and Korsak finished going through those files. Can't believe we got nothin'," Jane said to Maura as she pulled the Prius into a street spot a few doors down from The Dirty Robber.

Maura acknowledged her with a half-smile. "We didn't find much either, but at least we can take that car apart tomorrow. There might be something in it. Mrs. Ghetts' said that Cal called it their 'nest egg.'"

"Man. I can't imagine making it thirty years with the department and then dying a month after your retirement. I guess I also can't imagine what it must be like to lose your spouse after that long together." Jane tapped the middle console with her fingertips as she turned the car off. She sat for a while, not saying anything, just gathered herself.

"It must be awful," Maura said simply. She picked up Jane's hand with her own and kissed the back of it.

Jane, whose head had been resting against her seat, lolled it toward Maura and smiled tiredly. "I should be back at the station. I feel guilty."

"You have to eat, my love. We'll get it to go. Come on," Maura said, waiting for Jane to gather the resolve and the physical momentum to swing out of her seat. Finally, it happened, and it wasn't long before Jane opened her door, too, and offered a hand to help her out. Maura took it and then held onto Jane's bicep as they walked.

"You think we'll find anything?" Jane asked quietly as they approached The Robber.

"I don't know," Maura answered honestly. "But we can at least start with the car," she said. "When Hope came by this morning, she asked me about you."

"Oh yeah? What did she wanna know?" Jane looked at Maura, intrigued.

"How we met," Maura said, "I gave her the quick version. She thinks you're attractive."

Jane blushed. And stuttered.

"I don't know why you insist on being so modest," Maura said. "Most people think so. I definitely think so."

"Well thanks," said Jane. "You're not so bad yourself. Especially in that getup."

Maura chuckled and looked down at herself as Jane opened the door for them. "Which part?"

"All the parts," Jane said. "I know you dress like that for confidence. And because you like it. But I like it, too."

Maura was about to respond when she saw none other than her father, Paddy Doyle, enjoying a burger and fries at one of the tables. Seven or so men sat around him, and they were in the middle of a toast. "To Paddy!" One shouted loudly, and the rest echoed, "Paddy!"

Glasses clinked and drinks disappeared down gullets. Maura was disgusted. "Look at him," she whispered to Jane. "He thinks he's already gotten away with it. He's killed four people in the last two days."

Jane bristled at the danger Paddy brought with him every time he was in a room. She catalogued all the exits and counted the heads inside. "Let's go Maura. This is not helping anything." She tugged at Maura's arm, turning back to the door, but Paddy saw them.

"Maura!" he called out, and then left his table to stand in front of her. He smiled at her, warm and gentle.

She shook with anger. "Three more men are lying on my autopsy tables because of you."

He frowned. "Maura, I had nothing to do with that crash."

She envied that he was so good at lying when she struggled with it. She envied that he could be here, celebrating, while she and Jane worked late into the night to bring him to justice because he got to break the rules. She looked into his eyes and scowled. Then she stepped closer to him and pushed a finger into his chest. "I wish Jane had killed you."

* * *

When Jane opened her front door, still in the day's work clothes, she saw Hope on the other side.

"Hi. How is she?" asked Hope, seeing the tiredness in Jane's eyes. She stepped in when Jane stepped aside.

"Not good," said Jane, closing the door softly.

"Does she know I'm here?"

"She asked me to call you." Jane said. Hope felt Jane's hand on her back as they walked toward the stairs. It was fleeting and it was high up on her shoulder, but it was warm and wide and firm. The weight of it was comforting, and Hope thought that she understood how someone could fall in love with a feeling like that. It was the way Paddy had touched her so many years before. "Hey, babe?" Jane called into the master bedroom, walking in just behind Hope.

"Mmhmm?" She heard from the walk-in closet, and pointed Hope in that direction.

"Hope's here," she said as the two of them stood in the walkway.

Maura ran a lint roller furiously over the shoulder of one of her sweaters. She didn't look at either of them. "Just in the middle of getting the pills out of my cashmere blends," she said distractedly.

Hope stepped into the closet and walked toward her daughter. "Maura…" was all that she said, cooing as she got closer.

Maura sobbed. "I told him I wished he was dead," she lamented. The vulnerability in it spurred Hope into action and she moved to hug Maura, but Maura recoiled. "No. I… I don't really like to be hugged when I'm very upset."

Hope looked at Jane as if to ask if that were true. Jane pulled her lips into a thin, straight line as if to say _jury's out_.

Maura just bent down to pick up several garments off the floor. "I've got to get these sheath dresses off the floor before they wrinkle," she said to excuse them. Jane nodded toward the bedroom when she met Hope's gaze, willing to give Maura the alone time she needed.

Hope followed Jane wordlessly down the stairs, and when they made it to the kitchen, she saw just how lost Jane looked. She patted her cheek in sympathy. "What do you say we have some tea? You look like you've had a long day."

"Alright," Jane said. She showed Hope where the kettle and the cups were, and then the older woman got to work. "Thank you for doing this. For being here for her. She'll come around in a bit, I promise."

Hope smirked at Jane as the water heated. "You don't have to speak like that around me, you know. I grew up in Boston. I know how North End Italians sound."

Jane smiled back, closed-lipped and a little dark. "Yes I do. You're my girlfriend's mother."

Hope laughed softly. "I suppose you have a good point. But you impress me without all of that. I'm glad she has someone like you. And even though we didn't start out how I might have chosen, I am glad to be getting to know you."

"Thank you. Is it weird getting to know her? You know, since the last time you saw her is when she was born?" Jane asked. The water whistled, and then Hope poured her a cup first. Jane took it and dunked her teabag several times.

"Yes, it is strange getting to know her as an adult," Hope said.

"I can't even imagine."

"Every year on her birthday, I would come back to Boston, and I'd visit her grave. And I would add up the years, and I would think about how old she'd be and wonder what she'd turn out to be."

"Well, is she anything like you imagined?" Jane asked, sipping, testing the water with her tongue.

"She's better," Hope said through a sigh and a grin, elated to have a chance to admit it. "She's so much better than I imagined. And I have a good imagination."

"She's… better than I could have dreamed up for myself, too," Jane agreed. She winked at Hope when they both heard cautious footsteps coming down to the first level.

Maura appeared, still in her tight red dress, but also with one of Jane's zip up hoodies on. She fiddled with the drawstrings on it as she took a seat at the island. "I'm sorry," she said as she watched Hope pour herself a cup of tea, "I should have offered you some."

"And girl scout cookies," Jane said.

Maura looked at her guiltily. "I ate them all."

"Even the thin mints?" Jane asked in mock-horror.

"I ate those first," Maura confirmed.

"Damn," Jane said quietly, unable to keep up the ruse. Maura was sadder than she thought.

"I know this is your house, but could I make you some tea?" Hope smiled at their banter, so easy and comfortable.

"I would like that," Maura said.

"Sometimes, the only way for me to turn off the panicky thoughts in my head at night is the thought of espresso in the morning," Hope said, pouring a third cup.

"Me too," said Maura. "Would you like some?"

"Oh no, that'll keep me up all night," Hope chuckled. She walked the tea across the island and set it in front of Maura. "What can I do?"

Maura shrugged. "Go back 37 years and sleep with a different man?"

Hope and Jane shared a glance. Jane pouted. "Well can we give you a hug now?"

"It won't help," Maura said, and that stung.

Hope intervened, seeing Jane's disappointment. "Can we try?"

Maura nodded, and each of the women in her kitchen picked a side of her. First Hope clung to her right, leaning her head against Maura's. Jane appeared on her left side, the side that Jane always chose, her dominant side, and put her hand on Maura's arm. Then she kissed the side of Maura's head, long and soft.

* * *

"How's Maura doing?" Asked Frost as Jane plopped down at her desk the next morning. Maura had walked in with her, but veered left to make herself some tea.

"She's ok. She'd be a lot better if we could find something in Cal's Granada, though," she said. "Any news?"

"CSRU took apart the doors, the engine, the dashboard. Nothing so far."

"Where else would Cal hide that file?"

Korsak walked over to them holding a fresh cup of coffee. "If Cal set the fire, Paddy would've paid him to do it," he said.

"Which means Paddy would have kept a record of it in his little book," said Jane. "Yeah, here. Here, everybody take a section."

Maura walked over and set a mug in front of Jane, and was rewarded with a stack of photocopied pages from her father's ledger. "Paddy wrote everything in code," she said, taking the seat next to Jane's desk.

"Yeah, what does this mean? 'Big head rent lo broad'?" Frost looked at his portion of the book, turning it upside down as if that would help.

"Big head meant Michael Wynne," said Korsak. "Rent meant shaking down store owners on 'lo broad', which is the lower end of West Broadway."

Maura sipped on her drink. "How do I explain my presence if Lieutenant Cavanaugh comes in?" she asked Jane.

"Tell him you have menstrual cramps," said Jane, patting Maura's knee before going back to her pages.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Maura.

Korsak laughed. "Oh yes it does. He won't ask any questions once he hears those words," he said.

Maura rolled her eyes. "Men are strange."

Jane chuckled lowly. "Men are cowards," she said. After aghast looks from Korsak and Frost, she smiled at them.

"Shirley Ghetts just called. Someone want to tell me why we have Cal's car in the evidence garage?" As if summoned by Maura, Lieutenant Cavanaugh did indeed enter the squad room from across the hall. He glared at Korsak as he asked his question.

"Oh boy," said Frost under his breath.

"See you in my office, Vince?" Cavanaugh ordered, and Korsak followed.

They worked for about twenty minutes, with Frost writing lists of figures on their white board while Jane and Maura read them off to him. "He's been in there a long time," he said nervously.

Jane waved him off. "Just try not to think about it. We gotta find a connection between Paddy and Cal."

When Korsak finally emerged, he jumped right in with them. "What'd he say?" Frost asked him.

"It's too bad Cal's dead, because he'd like to wrap his hands around his throat," Korsak said seriously. They all knew Cavanaugh's temper, especially when it came to people he cared about. To be confronted with the reality that his trusted colleague had apparently set the fire that killed his wife and son must have made him erupt. "What are you guys doing?"

"Trying to break Paddy's codes," Frost answered. "He's got these charts starting in 1992."

"Show me where that is," Korsak said, looking at the board, seeing the word _oso_ written about twenty times next to either the numbers 200, 100, or zero.

"Right here, page 38," Frost said, handing it to him.

Korsak saw it, and then had to lean on his own desk for support. His hand went to his mouth in shock. "Oh my god," he said.

"What's wrong?" Jane pressed.

"How could we not know? Paddy and Oso, that's it," Korsak thought it was obvious.

Frost didn't. "Who's Oso?"

"Oso Garcia. He was a Colombian drug dealer that Cavanaugh shut down in '92, when Paddy was Cavanaugh's CI."

Jane's eyes flew open. "Paddy was Cavanaugh's CI?!"

"Oh yeah," said Korsak. "They worked together for over a year. He gave Sean some spiel about wanting the drugs off Southie streets just as bad as the cops, but now it's clear that that was a lie."

"That doesn't make any sense," Maura said.

"Yeah why would Paddy buy cocaine off Oso, then turn around and help Cavanaugh bust him?" Frost asked.

"Oh god. It was a setup from beginning to end," Korsak said, eyes wide.

"Damn. All Paddy wanted was cheaper cocaine, and he fed Cavanaugh information knowing that it would chase the Colombians out of Southie." Jane slumped in her chair and stared straight ahead.

"Paddy ran Southie. Eventually, the Colombians would have to go to him for help. They didn't know that Paddy was the informant," Korsak said.

"I'm not following this." Frost crossed his arms.

"Paddy helped the drug unit bring heat onto Oso from August '92 to March of '93, so see those six zeroes next to Oso's name? I guarantee you those were six months where Paddy couldn't buy coke because Cavanaugh was putting pressure on the Colombians," Jane said.

"Right, but in April of '93, Paddy started buying cocaine again, but for half the price," Korsak pointed out. Sure enough, Paddy started buying cocaine for 200k, but after his six month hiatus, it went down to 100 in his book.

Frost studied the numbers. "So what changed in March of '93?"

Maura tapped her lips with her fingers. "His family died. Linda and Christopher Cavanaugh died in the fire at the end of March."

"That's it. Paddy did the Colombians a favor and they paid him back. My guess is Paddy's plan was to kill Cavanaugh, but it worked out the same when Cal set that fire. Cavanaugh fell apart."

"Yeah, he never ran another drug case," said Korsak.

"Poor guy," Frost said sadly.

Jane looked at him in worry. "Shit. Does Cavanaugh still have a copy of Paddy's book?"

"I just saw him leave." Frost was already grabbing his blazer and keys.

"Oh fuck. We gotta find him. He's gonna kill Paddy," Jane said, following after her partner.

* * *

Cavanaugh went where he thought Paddy might be first - a bar. An Irish bar. It just so happened that the last Irish bar he frequented was The Dirty Robber, and so he tried it. It also just so happened that Paddy _was_ there. He shared a drink with two of the men that Maura and Jane had seen with him the day before, two men that Cavanaugh now recognized as Irish mob.

Paddy smiled at him from his perch on the barstool. "Hey, can I buy you a drink, Sean?" he asked, throwing back the rest of his own shot.

"Yeah," Cavanaugh whispered just before he punched Paddy hard enough to send him staggering backwards. Doyle blood splattered across the bar and into the beers of his two men, and then there was a melee. Cavanaugh got in a few more good shots before a Doyle soldier broke his nose with a fist.

"Hey! Boston Police! Knock it off!" Jane's booming voice cut through the violence enough for the brawlers to at least glance in her direction. She had stormed through the front door; Frost came in behind her, followed by Maura and Korsak, but she was already right up in the chaos. "Hey, stop it! Come on, back off. Back off!" she pushed some of the men away, and grabbed Cavanaugh by the collar, sending him over to Frost with a shove.

One of the others, though, saw her turned back as an opportunity for action, and swiped at Cavanaugh, who bumped Frost, who in turn knocked into Maura.

Jane raged.

The man who initiated the movement was short enough and bent over enough that she could swing her left elbow up and into his face, sending even more blood flying. Doyle men took it as a sign to attack. A few blows even landed, mostly to her body. She swung at each tough guy she could then, breaking a couple noses, and they fought until Frost drew his weapon.

"Do not fucking move!" He shouted, his stance firm and his weapon trained. Korsak drew his, too, and then all hands went up.

Maura tended to Cavanaugh all the while, her hand on his shoulder. "Try not to move, Lieutenant," she cautioned him. Then she pointed at Paddy. "How could you?" she seethed.

"He came at me! I was minding my own business," Paddy said, his pride hurt more than any of his person.

"Oh shut up!" Jane barked at him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She walked towards Maura and her colleagues. "C'mon, let's get him up and get him outta here."

Korsak nodded to her and took Cavanaugh gently outside. "Come on, Sean. Let me… let me take you. We'll go in my car."

"He killed my family," Cavanaugh whimpered, blood running down his lip and the side of his face. "He killed my family."

"I can follow you to Mass General, Sergeant," Maura called behind Korsak and Frost, who each had an arm around Cavanaugh. The night sky was murky and the air was humid enough that it felt like trying to talk in a body of water.

They both froze. "He can't go to a hospital," Jane said. "We can't risk people knowing that he got into it with Paddy and his guys. That could mess things up."

At first, Maura ignored her. "Alright, then. At least bring him to our house. I can monitor him there." When they waved their agreement and got into the unmarked, Maura glared at Jane over the roof of her car as the taller woman walked to the driver's side. " _He_ got into it with Paddy and his guys?! Just him?"

Jane cocked her head in what looked like confusion, but Maura knew as annoyance. "Yeah, _he_ got into it. I was breaking it up."

"Until you started punching, Jane!" Maura settled into the passenger side that had been opened for her, and then she slammed the door. The car wobbled. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Because somebody decided to try and take you out, Maura!" Jane shouted back, shoving her seatbelt on and jerking the car from the curb to the road. "You want me to just sit around and watch my partner and my… my semi-fiancee get knocked around by thugs?"

"That's ridiculous. Even if there were a threat to my safety, why wouldn't you pull your firearm? Detective Frost did." Maura argued.

Jane huffed. "Why the hell are we arguin' about this? Everything's fine!"

"Everything is not fine," Maura said through gritted teeth. She flicked her hand out in anger, her palm splayed between them, her fingers spread in a truly Italian gesture. Jane snarled at it, her anger rising again. "You're going to wake up sore and you're lucky you're going to wake up at all," Maura continued, and Jane went to respond, but she barreled over her. Jane glared. "You put yourself in _extreme_ danger - when you could have put an end to everything! One of those men could have decided to risk it all and blow you away right there, in the middle of The Robber. What were you thinking?"

Jane had reached a boiling point. "I saw red, a'right?!" she roared. "I saw you get pushed and I blew my fucking top. I _wasn't_ thinking, not rationally. All I could think about was that day in the warehouse and how I made the wrong fucking choice. I'm not making the wrong fucking choice again, Maura. I'm not putting you in danger anymore. I would have boxed Paddy himself if I had to - and maybe it's barbaric to you but I'd do it if that's what it took to get the message across."

Maura slumped back into her seat. "Oh." Boston street lights flashed over her face like strobes as she listened to Jane yell.

Jane sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. Clearly I'm still a little hot. I shouldn't have shouted."

"You need to be smarter about how you protect me," Maura said quietly. "You got hurt."

"Yeah, I know," Jane said. She kept her eyes on the road and the police vehicle carrying Cavanaugh in front of them.

They sat in silence for the following seven or eight minutes, listening only to the gravelly whir of tires on the road. Jane's legs were wide open, left knee up against the driver side door, left hand tugging gently at the steering wheel's bottom, maneuvering them through back streets towards Beacon Hill. Maura caught sight of it, licking her lips as she watched the long digits strum the vinyl of the wheel between Jane's legs. Her eyes traveled to Jane's wide open hips, stopping there to admire the twitches of movement as Jane alternated between gas and brake. Finally, she saw Jane's idle right hand, noting the bruises across its knuckles for the first time.

Her breath hitched. "You punched a man. For me," she finally breathed out, with an exhilarated little laugh.

"A few men," Jane corrected, chuckling to herself, too. "I know I can be a meathead sometimes, Maura. I'm tryin' to work on it."

"Don't," Maura said before she could stop herself.

"Don't what?" Jane turned to her and asked.

"Don't try too hard. I've decided I like when you do things like that, if I don't think too hard about the stupidity of it all. That moment was just _especially_ stupid. God, why does being angry with you make me feel like this?" Maura sighed and knocked her head back against the headrest.

Jane's brow came forward. "Like what?" Maura only grabbed Jane's free hand and squeezed, placing it against her own chest. "Oh. _Oh._ "

They pulled onto Maura's street before the conversation could deepen. Korsak and Frost were already waiting at the door for them. Maura took Jane's hand out of the car, making sure to rub her thumb over swollen knuckles as they met. She looked at the three men severely as she unlocked the front door. "I still think we need to get him to a hospital. He needs stitches and his nose reset."

"No hospital," Cavanaugh whined, and this was a tragic mockery of the last time he had insisted on it in Maura's living room.

"I agree," said Korsak, leading him to the couch. "Let's not make this worse with a paper trail."

Jane pulled Maura to the side. "You reset my nose. You can do that. Can you stitch him up, too?"

"Alright, get me some towels and my medical bag," Maura nodded. Jane did as told. "Let's put him on the couch."

"I don't want to get any blood on it," Cavanaugh said. His voice was hoarse.

"No, no, it's ok," said Maura.

"Thanks, Dr. Isles. As soon as we can move him, I'll take him to my place," said Korsak.

"No, I'm fine," Cavanaugh tried to argue, but Korsak waved him off.

"No, you're not. And if you think I'm gonna let you try and kill Paddy again, _think_ again."

Cavanaugh exploded again. "He's a dead man!"

Jane put her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the couch. Frost helped him sit. "Lieutenant, if anyone deserves to kill him, it's you. But you can't," he said.

Jane agreed. "Think about what you had to go through to survive Linda and Christopher's death. Every day that you force yourself to go on living is a tribute to those two people that loved you."

Cavanaugh hung his head in his hands. "I blamed myself. All this time, I thought that fire was an accident. And I was right to blame myself. It's my fault they died! Paddy wanted me!"

"Don't say that," Korsak pleaded.

"Linda and the baby weren't supposed to be there, Vince! He wanted me but I was working, I was always working! So instead, he killed them. Get outta my way!" Cavanaugh pushed his way off the couch and approached Korsak like a linebacker.

"Hell no," Korsak said.

"He's not spending another day on Earth!" Cavanaugh was hysterical now, actively pushing.

Jane stepped forward. "Lieutenant, there's another way. We keep digging, we prove that Paddy paid Ghetts to set the fire, Paddy gets charged with arson and he gets the death penalty."

Cavanaugh ignored her. "You gonna move?!" he screamed at Korsak again.

"No!" Korsak matched his volume.

"Well what are you gonna do, Vince? Huh? Shoot me? 'Cause that's what it's gonna take!" When the lieutenant reached his crescendo, Maura stuck a syringe in his arm and depressed the plunger. "Oh, what the hell?" He groaned, and then fell back onto the couch, unconscious.

When the three detectives gaped and her, she shrugged her shoulders. "I heard you say there was another way. It's all I could think of."


	30. Chapter 30

Jane watched Maura fuss over Lieutenant Cavanaugh on the couch, even though he had been settled for over a half hour. She noted Maura's hair, how it fell into her face while she took the man's pulse, how her back arched as she balanced on her heels to listen for his breathing, how her fingers drifted over his nose and his forehead where she had patched him up. Jane shivered when Maura rose slowly, in a sensual curvature, until she was her full height and then some in the four inch heels that made her almost as tall as Jane. "I wanna stay home," Jane said impulsively, "I wanna go upstairs."

Maura frowned with sympathy. "Me too. It's late."

Jane came up close and they hugged. Maura had both arms wrapped tight around her, and she had one arm around Maura's middle while the other hung at her side. "I'm sorry for acting like a knucklehead at the bar," Jane breathed out as she took in the scent of Maura's perfume, "I wanna make up."

"We can't…" Maura said, just as much to herself as to Jane. "We have to go back to the station and Hope is on her way."

Jane nodded sadly and broke them apart. "I know," she sniffed.

"All she needs to do is check his vitals and administer the sedative every four hours," explained Maura, and then the doorbell rang.

"Alright, then let's go," said Jane. She grabbed her keys, handed Maura her purse, and turned for one last visual inspection of the room. "What'd you tell her?"

"That he's a police officer who lost his family, and we're looking for the suspect. That's all she needs to know," Maura replied. She opened the door to reveal her mother. "Thank you so much for coming."

"What do you need me to do?" Hope asked as soon as she stepped in.

"He's stable. I gave him four milligrams of Lorazepam fifteen minutes ago, and there's more in my kit," said Maura.

"Alright. I'll administer another dose in a few hours. He'll be fine, go," Hope took off her coat and immediately went to work.

"Thank you," both Jane and Maura called out on their way back to BPD.

* * *

"If Korsak would have never noticed that welding setup in Cal's garage, we'd still be twiddling our thumbs," Frost said to Maura. They were in the evidence garage, both in BPD coveralls and goggles, standing over the back of Cal Ghetts' old Granada. Jane was under it, tinkering, and all Maura could see was her trim waist and long legs sprawled out below the bumper. She wore black work boots and her coveralls were tucked inside, and she looked like she'd been a mechanic her whole life.

Because _of course_ she did. Maura resisted the urge to straddle. "Do you see any signs of welding?" she said instead, kneeling right by Jane and peeking under the car to see her face.

"Yeah. It has an OEM muffler but there's a non-factory weld on it," Jane answered without looking at Maura.

"Do you want tin snips?" Maura asked, wondering if this was what it felt like to sit beside your parent while they worked at home, under the sink or in the garage, if it felt this thrilling when you were a child.

Jane rolled out. Her hands were full of dirt and motor oil and she was completely unaware of the effect she was having, with her pulled back hair and her white tank top poking just above the open buttons of her coveralls. And her boots and her grime and her long body. "Uh, no. Hand me the sawzall, though, would you?" Frost took it from the bench and handed it to Maura, who handed it to Jane shakily. "Thanks," she said rolling back under.

The saw buzzed, and the distinct metallic smell of it filled the garage as Jane worked. She winced when she banged her hand on something, setting the saw down like it had burned her. "Ouch."

"Are you alright?" Maura's face was back under the bumper again, any excuse to put eyes on Jane, who looked back at her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jane grumbled as she shook her hand out a few more times.

"Tell me what you need," said Maura.

"Give me that monkey wrench?" The wrench followed the same chain of command as the saw, and then it was in her grasp. "Thank you."

Maura nodded. "Careful please," she warned, risking a hand low on Jane's thigh as she leveraged the wrench back and forth, only stepping away when Jane started to wheel herself out again. "And?"

"And…. I got somethin'. Shirley Ghetts did say this was their nest egg," said Jane, heaving the muffler onto a workbench close by. "This looks promising." There was a non factory weld, and Jane wiggled the piece of metal that had been stuck on top of it, revealing a compartment inside. She pulled out several pipes and an envelope. "Looks like two pieces of pipe and a union joint," she said, handing Maura a square switch.

Maura turned it over in her hands. "That's a gas valve."

Frost poked his head between them to get a good look at everything. "Looks like we found Cal's evidence."

"It's a lot better than a missing file." Jane pulled photographs from the manila envelope, as well as a report. Maura took the photos and compared them to the pieces of metal they found.

"And these might be pieces from the furnace that exploded in Lieutenant Cavanaugh's apartment," she said.

"He put the arson photos in there," Frost noted, "1245 Silver Street. That was Cavanaugh's apartment."

* * *

After a quick shower in the locker room, Jane stood in BRIC with Frost, Maura, and Korsak as they pored over the details of what they had found in Cal's car. Maura pointed to the picture she had been studying for several minutes. "This is the gas valve from the exploded furnace," she said. "If it had malfunctioned, there would be evidence of charring. There isn't any on it."

Frost crossed his arms. "So the gas valve wasn't the cause of the fire, like Cal originally claimed in that report we found."

"No."

"And it wasn't the union joint," Korsak said as he held it.

"No," Maura confirmed again. "There's no damage on the threads."

"Which means it was loosened on purpose, which supports the theory that Cal set the fire," Korsak used conjecture where she wasn't willing to.

"He probably went into Cavanaugh's apartment, turned off the heat, then went down into the basement, and loosened the union joint," Jane joined him.

"Natural gas from these pipes would have filled the basement in minutes," Maura said, providing facts to go with their theories, trying to help them the best way she knew how.

"Linda came home to a freezing house, turned the heat on," said Jane. "You know, a fire investigator once told me, if you smell gas, don't even touch the doorbell. The electrical spark from that doorbell is enough to blow the entire place up."

Frost sighed. "And we still haven't connected the fire to Paddy Doyle. But I did find this stuffed way up the exhaust pipe." he handed a curled notebook to Jane, who unwrapped it and studied the contents.

"It's Cal's investigative notes from March 22, 1993. That's the day of the fire," she flipped through them.

"What do they say?" asked Frost.

"Uh, there was a witness. A neighbor, Mrs. Longstead?"

"She saw Cal?"

"I don't think it was Cal," said Jane. "Francine Longstead of 1299 Winston Street reports she saw a white male enter the basement right before the fire."

"A white male? Cal was black," Frost said.

"White male rules out the Colombians, too," Korsak added.

Jane continued reading. "Mrs. Longstead says she heard the explosion and looked out her window in time to see the same man running from the basement with his shirt on fire."

Maura frowned. "If his shirt was on fire and he was running, it's highly likely that he suffered second and third-degree burns."

"So, we just need Mrs. Longstead to make a description," said Jane, while Frost typed away on the computer at his station.

He huffed. "Francine Longstead died in 2005."

"Shit," Jane deflated.

"We can try to see if there's anything in the photos. Long shot, but Paddy had nine trusted lieutenants and I bet one of those guys torched that apartment. I'll bring up all the surveillance of Paddy and his top guys from March 1993," Frost said, and did his thing. Jane smiled at his prowess for finding alternate routes and making subtle connections.

"They always met behind the Chauncy Street Tavern," said Korsak as thousands of pictures started to populate.

Maura pointed to one in particular. "That's Jackie Donovan. We can rule him out. I didn't see any burn scars when I did his autopsy."

Jane stepped into Frost's space. "Frost, see if there's a photo of them all together March 23, 1993."

Maura raised an eyebrow at her. "The day after the fire? You think they took surveillance photos of him every day?"

"There's thousands of megs of high-res photos here," said Frost. "We can try."

"You know, every time Paddy wanted somethin' done, one of these guys did it. But this time was different," Jane said as she walked up to the big screens at the front of the room, now in a tucked-in white v-neck and slacks.

"What do you mean?" Korsak asked her.

"RICO. Paddy's not gonna send one of his guys to kill a cop's family. He's gonna do it himself."

"I got it. March 23, 1993," Frost exclaimed as he pulled up the best picture of Paddy and his lieutenants.

"Of course," said Korsak. "Penalty's the same for capital murder. Do it yourself, no one can turn on you."

Maura went cold when she saw the image of Paddy, bandaged in all the areas that would have suffered burns if he set the fire. She gulped. "Detective Frost, can you blow up the area around his collar?"

Jane frowned when she saw Maura's face. "Maura, we knew Paddy was behind Linda and Christopher's murders. The fact that he set the fire himself isn't any worse than ordering someone else to do it." Maura didn't reply, just stared. "What is it?"

Maura lifted her own forearm up gingerly, revealing her still-healing burn. "Hemostatic trauma gauze. I think she helped him."

* * *

"Maura! Maura wait, look, I know you're upset, but there's a better way to ask. You can finesse-"

"You need to be quiet. And _do not_ interfere," Maura interrupted Jane, who trotted to catch up with her as they moved up the courtyard walkway to the front door. When she swung the door open, Jane ducked back to avoid it hitting her in the face. "Stay right here," Maura pointed to the spot just inside the doorway and glowered until Jane complied.

Hope sat at the dining table, chemistry textbook open next to a cup of tea, mistaking Maura's fury for concern. "Maura, he's fine. His vitals are stable." When Maura scowled at her next, pulling a file folder from under an arm, she pulled back. "What's wrong?"

Maura slammed the picture of Paddy and his gauze-covered wounds over the book. "That's your work, isn't it?" When Hope said nothing, she got louder. "Did Paddy tell you how he got those burns?"

"No." Hope didn't deny it, clearly there was no reason to.

Maura's lip trembled and she bit it before she spoke again so that she wouldn't cry. Her voice was wet anyway. She pointed to Cavanaugh on the couch. "Twenty years ago, Paddy killed his twenty-nine year old wife, and their two-year-old son. They burned to death after Paddy blew up their apartment, all so that he could get cheaper cocaine. The profits he turned, the savings he accrued because of it, _that_ is what paid for MEND. And… and you treated his burns, didn't you?"

Hope's mouth dropped open, and she started to cry, too. "I didn't know. I swear to you I did not know how he got those burns."

Maura scoffed bitterly. "But you must have heard. You must have heard that a cop's family died in a fire, and then Paddy shows up with third-degree burns? Come on! What lie did you tell yourself that day?" She was shouting now, but when Jane started to walk over to her, she held out her hand. Jane froze.

"He… he swore that he would never hurt women and children, so that… it must have been an accident," Hope was being shockingly open with her answers, telling Maura the exact lie she used to convince herself her man wasn't the killer he was.

"Look at that detective over there," Maura said quietly, tears trickling down her cheeks, pointing to Jane. Jane stiffened, squared her shoulders at the mention of herself, but said nothing - Maura had taken charge, and this was her time. Hope did glance Jane's way once before looking down at the floor. "She's only a little older than the lieutenant was then. Yesterday morning, you told me that Paddy was like her. That he was all the things she is. But he's not. She would put a gun in her mouth before hurting a woman and child. And she would put a gun in her mouth if she lost me. But he exposed you to federal investigation! To prison time! He killed those people and he made you vulnerable. They are _not_ the same. There are no more accidents, Hope. You made a bargain with the devil, and it has come due."

Hope sucked her own lips closed and hiccuped with emotion. "What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

Maura put her hand on the table and leaned closer to her mother, who was still sitting down. "You're going to testify against him."

* * *

AUSA King was visibly relaxed as he met Jane and Maura at the metal detectors of the courthouse the next morning. He put his hand on Jane's shoulder and patted it. "Listen, Detective. I am beyond impressed that you caught the wildest Hail Mary pass that I ever had to throw. Thank you."

Maura beeped through just moments after, and Jane shook her head. "You can put me in Canton when it's over, Counselor. But we still have to get through today."

"Hope Martin still has to testify," King pointed out. "What if she doesn't?"

Jane winked at Maura. "Well, that's why I sent two uniforms to escort her."

"She'll be here," Maura said confidently.

"I'll talk to the judge. We'll get in front of the grand jury and we'll have two murder indictments by lunch. Wish me luck," King said as he waved goodbye and made his way towards the judge's chambers.

Jane turned to Maura as soon as he left. "You ok?" she asked when she noticed Maura's determined features.

"You know when I said she should've picked someone else to sleep with 37 years ago?"

Jane chuckled. "Yeah."

"Maybe Paddy should've picked somebody else," Maura quipped.

"Well, she said she'd testify against him, right?" Jane said through her smirk.

"Yes."

"Well, maybe, y'know, in her own way, she's trying to make amends. Look, Korsak and Frost are here."

"Here we go," Korsak greeted them, readjusting his blazer after his pat down. "Cavanaugh should be here."

As he looked around, the man at the kiosk addressed him. "Lieutenant Cavanaugh? He's already upstairs."

Jane almost lunged at him. "He's what?"

Frost touched her forearm. "Jane, he's not gonna strangle Paddy in the courthouse. And he can't get his weapon through security."

And as if by divine providence, the officer being waved through security was doing exactly that. The gun was dismantled and examined, and then he readjusted it and slid it back into his holster. The four of them shared ghastly glances.

"Yes, he can," said Korsak, and they all sprinted toward the most private place to commit a murder in a public courthouse: the men's room.

* * *

"Look at me, you son of a bitch. Blowin' your head off would be too good. I'm gonna kill you slowly," Cavanaugh, alone with Doyle for the first time since 1993, held his government issued pistol up against Paddy's chin. Their faces were centimeters apart when Jane, Maura, Korsak, and Frost found them.

"It wasn't personal Sean," replied Paddy, "it was just business."

"Business? You killed my wife and my baby just so you could get cocaine cheaper!" Cavanaugh bellowed, his sorrow a clattering echo within the tiled bathroom. "How do you stand there and think you deserve breath?!"

Korsak stepped forward, and Maura tried to, too, but Jane yanked her back. The intensity of her grip might have left bruises. "Sean, don't!" Korsak pleaded, holding out his hands.

Jane stood in front of Maura, her shoulder cocked forward, but she didn't have her weapon on the waist of her skirt. She felt naked. "Lieutenant, please don't do this." Maura tried going to Doyle again.

Jane wrapped her fingers around her arm, but Maura threw her off. "Don't. I want to talk to my father."

Cavanaugh saw her approach and stiffened. He refused collateral damage, even now. "Don't come any closer Dr. Isles, he's a dead man."

Maura breathed in quietly. "Alright," she acquiesced. "But before you kill him, I just want him to know something. She's here, Paddy. Hope."

Paddy's eyes went wide and desperate. "Hope is here?"

Maura nodded. "She was about to testify to the grand jury."

He scoffed, but there was mania behind it. "That'll never happen."

"Now it won't. Because the Lieutenant is going to save us a lot of anguish, but it must feel terrible to hear that the love of your life was about to help us put you on death row."

Paddy slumped against the wall. "She wouldn't."

"She would," countered Maura. "All these years, you've stayed alive for two things: power and Hope. Seems fitting that you'd go out like this."

"You're lying," Paddy said petulantly, "Hope would never do that."

And Jane watched Maura's chess match with her father, with Cavanaugh, play out in spectacular fashion. Cavanaugh, who had no idea he had been manipulated, lowered his gun. "I've got a better way for you to experience hell. You're gonna stay alive, but without her. Just like I had to." he let Korsak take his gun.

"Come on, Sean," Korsak goaded, but the lieutenant stayed put.

"Give me a minute, Vince," Cavanaugh said quietly, and they all left him to get started in the courtroom.

That afternoon, Hope would testify.

And Paddy would suffer through the scene of it before they found him guilty on all counts. The devil's debt would be paid. He held her eyes with his own throughout his whole walk towards the back of the courtroom, where a van waited to take him back to jail to await his sentencing.

* * *

That night, it was dark in their room, no candles, no night lights, no phone screens. And yet, somehow Maura still knew Jane had drifted, gone someplace else, even while nestled on top of her. So, she moved her hands from around Jane's shoulders to her neck, and they kissed. "Where are you right now?" she asked, knowing that in their bed, Jane would never be dishonest.

Jane grimaced, her eyes screwed shut, when Maura squeezed inside and she felt the resistance. _Fuck_ it was distracting. "Agh," she breathed out, trying to find words, "thinking about you." She was panting heavily in Maura's ear as she thrust in and out of her. Her scarred palm rubbed up and down Maura's thigh, adding to the heady sensation of seesawing pleasure between the two of them. When Maura begged for _deeper,_ Jane got it too. When Jane dragged out of Maura's body, she felt an absence in her own. And when she filled Maura back up, and Maura moaned her approval, Jane marveled at the process beginning all over again. She thought about how angrily they had begun, how she thought she'd never see Maura again then, let alone touch her again, and she thought about the warehouse, western Massachusetts, The Robber, and the courthouse bathroom. All the times Maura had been in danger. It made her cling harder to Maura now.

"Well, stop. Feel about me instead," Maura asked of her, and they kissed again. "I'm trying to make you feel good. I'm trying to show you that I forgive you," she said with good-natured snark, and then squeezed again.

Jane moaned. "It's working," she snarked back, just before she dropped her head down to Maura's shoulder and whimpered, unable to keep her toughened veneer. "It's _so_ good."

Maura would have laughed, but the atmosphere was too thick, too intense. It demanded too much. She put her face to the side of Jane's as she continued to receive her, and kissed it. Sloppily. She moved down to Jane's shoulder, licking the round of it when she finally got there. The hand Jane had used to punch a Doyle soldier was gripping her thigh and the bruises Jane's ribs had accrued in that same brawl rubbed over her own torso, and Maura swore she felt their warmth. Her eyes had adjusted the best they could in the darkness, and she watched Jane work under the sheet, all barely coiled physicality and uncanny strength. "Would you kill for me?" she asked, her whisper heavy and sharp against Jane's ear, her hands resting to feel thumping carotids on either side of Jane's neck. The blood in them beat against her skin with emphasis, signalling Jane's elevated pulse.

Jane shot up then, breaking Maura's hold on her, but she found her eyes with her own. "You really askin' me that right now?"

Maura shrugged. "You can't lie to me when you're inside me," she said, her voice wavering with the way they moved together. Then she arched her back when Jane punished her with an upstroke that hit _just_ the right spot.

"I don't lie to you, period," Jane said indignantly, but kissed Maura's chin anyway.

"You lie to me all the time," Maura said, and when Jane made to pull away, she pulled her closer. Her thumbs ran over Jane's cheeks while her fingers scratched at the nape of her neck. "Kind lies. Lies that make sure I don't get upset, or stressed. But here, you never do."

Jane seemed to be deciding whether or not to accept this answer without protest, because she slowed her hips down. Maura groaned at the change. "Maura…" Jane started, giving herself a moment to breathe and to indulge in the hands now rubbing wide swaths up and down the muscles of her back, gripping her almost imperceptibly when she found all the right places. "I would kill for you… I would die for you. You have to know that."

"I want you to live for me instead," said Maura, nipping at Jane's jaw. The pleasure-pain spurred Jane into sinful action as she spread Maura's knees open on either side of her. Her thumbs slid from the tops of Maura's thighs into the crook of each hip, and she gripped Maura's waist as she sped up her movements. Her torso was now perpendicular to the bed, taut with effort, and it allowed her to watch all the best parts of Maura bounce.

"I do that, too," Jane said sweetly, a little nonsensically, entranced by the way silicone disappeared into Maura and then reappeared, and how that magical act translated into decadent friction inside of her, as well. " _Shit_ , baby." She had been enjoying herself too much to realize that their time was coming to a very explosive end. She shuddered when she felt it knocking against her hips, that thunderclap of ecstasy. Maura pulled her back down by the arms, until she was flush against her again, and that exacerbated the inevitable, accentuated the loss of control. She was in the place she felt the safest, and she didn't have the discipline to try and get that control back.

"No, you don't. For you, it's always kill or be killed when it comes to me," Maura said. When she felt Jane slipping into oblivion, sweet though it was, she grabbed Jane's face and closed her own knees, effectively stopping Jane cold. "So stop that. Do you hear me? What I'm asking you?" she asked.

Jane squirmed, unsure how long she could honor the pause button Maura had pushed. She just stared, hoping to convey her desperation, her need.

"Choose living instead. Make a life with me - that way we never have to wonder what might have been," Maura said, and when Jane finally nodded, she smiled, spreading her legs open again, removing her restriction on Jane's hips. Then she did laugh, quietly, just for Jane to see and hear, when she couldn't hold it in anymore. "Good. You can come now," she teased, patting Jane's cheek with an open hand.

Jane redoubled her efforts until she did come. " _Fuck…._ " she immediately groaned long and loud in release, because the storm came quickly and left slowly. She adjusted her undulations to a crawl before finally stopping and slumping forward until she had erased the few inches between them. "What the hell was that about?" She asked, already slipping out, kissing her way down Maura's body as she gulped in air, stopping to pay special attention to the soft skin of her belly.

"That was your penance," Maura smirked, biting her lower lip when Jane sucked on her until she felt a twinge. "I don't want us to end up like them," she said more seriously. "Apart but unable to move on."

"I'll try not to be too offended that you're thinkin' about your parents while we have sex," Jane said as she traveled lower, swiping her tongue confidently, brazenly, through where she had just been playing moments before. The taste of it filled Jane with purpose and Maura cried out. It didn't take long, less than a couple of minutes, for Maura to perch a pointed foot on Jane's shoulder and press down, hard. Jane stayed with it though, navigated Maura through the most intense waves of her climax, until she stopped clenching her stomach and flattened her head against the pillow with a satisfying _whoomph_.

"It was only a few seconds, I promise," she said, regulating her breath with large inhales. When Jane slumped against her torso, wild black hair crowning outwards, she buried her hands in it. "And it was just to make my point."

"You want me to make you priority number one," said Jane with a long sniffle, lacing her fingers against the muscles of Maura's abdominal wall and sticking her chin on them.

Maura rose up on her elbows to get a better look at Jane. "No. I'm already priority number one. I want you to make _us_ priority number one. That means protecting yourself, too."

Jane clicked her tongue. "I'm bad at that."

"I know," said Maura, laying back down. "Come back up here, please."

Jane obliged, crawling her way up, unfastening the buckles at her hips and letting them drop to the bedside. "I'm comin'."

"Remember when you said you would do anything for me? At least try. I'm not saying don't run into the bar, I'm just saying don't punch the big mobster in a room full of other mobsters," Maura hedged when Jane, usually so surly and standoffish, snuggled into the crook of her neck. Affection surged in her chest at the feeling. "Is that feasible?"

"Yeah," said Jane. "Yes, it's feasible," she reaffirmed without pride. There was a long pause where the only sound was the rustle of the sheet as she adjusted herself to get more comfortable, and then the sound of her breathing, rapidly turning even. "What if he's small? Or if the room is only _half_ full of mobsters?" she asked, yelping when Maura pinched her side. "Ow!"

"You think you're funnier than you are," Maura groused. Jane kissed her softly before rolling onto her back, and Maura hummed into it. She took Jane's right hand with her left, laying the back of it against her belly and holding it in place, her stomach fluttering at the contradiction of Jane's bones on the smoothness of her skin. "You were a bad decision away from the back of an ambulance, Jane. Where I still could not go with you." She sounded stern, and it contrasted with the way she dragged fingernails lightly up and down the skin of Jane's exposed wrist, the fatty portion of her forearm.

Jane sighed and then swallowed thickly, closing her eyes against the comfort of the touch. "You remember all those months ago, when you asked me if I had fantasized about my wedding as a little girl?"

Maura smiled. "You said that you did once, when you had a very high fever."

"Which was obviously me bein' an asshole. But I did have it planned out," Jane said as she looked up at the ceiling.

"What do you mean?" Maura asked softly. "You had your wedding planned out?"

"Yeah. I had this… dumb idea that I would say my vows at Fenway over home plate… in a Sox jersey," she confessed, glancing at Maura with only one eye open, waiting for the judgment to come.

Maura laughed. "Oh, it's not dumb. It's not exactly elegant, but at least it's colorful, baby."

Emboldened by Maura's kindness, Jane continued. "And we would have the reception over the mound, and we would serve Fenway Franks and frozen lemonade. And the guests would throw peanuts at us instead of rice. Of course, now, I would want there to be plenty of beer on tap, too."

Maura contemplated everything that Jane had said, holding it quietly in her heart as she analyzed it. "Can I come?" her words were so timid that Jane's hand, still laying on her stomach, squeezed her fingers tight.

"Maura," Jane said as she leaned up on her elbow to look down, folding her own hands back together as she reclined. "I'm not gettin' married unless it's to you. And when we do, you need to know that I'm not gonna cheat, I'm not gonna leave you for some bimbo twenty years younger than me, and I'm not gonna lie to you about the death of our baby or how I make my money. I'm gonna try better to come home alive and in one piece every night, because that would make you happy. It would make us happy."

Maura turned into Jane, hiding her face as she wrapped her arms around her so that Jane wouldn't see her cry. She squeezed so tightly that Jane grunted, but then Jane squeezed back. They laid there for long minutes, until Maura sighed against Jane's sternum. "A Red Sox jersey?"

It was Jane's turn to pinch her. "Hey. You're in my fantasy, a'right? You cannot tell me what to wear."


	31. Chapter 31

Jane listened to the sound of late September rain as it pattered lightly against the main bedroom window, a peaceful harbinger of the slurries that were no doubt to come in the next several months. She tossed a stress ball into the air as she laid out on the bed, her head at the foot, her feet crossed on her pillow, and closed her eyes to single out the comforting clamor of the late fall shower. It made her sleepy. It made her lazy. "Ma!" she called out as she turned her head slowly toward the walk-in closet.

There was no reply. She could hear her mother speaking in hushed tones with Maura deep within the recesses of the closet, so she tried again. "Ma!"

Angela finally poked her head out of the doorway. "You wanna talk to me so bad, get off your ass and come in here," she said through gritted teeth before disappearing again. Jane huffed, stopped throwing her stress ball, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. When she got to the closet, she saw an already surprising amount of shoes on the floor, and Maura standing guard at the rest.

"You already got her to dump that many?" Jane said, looking between the pile and Maura.

"We're clearing the clutter, Jane," Angela replied, rolling her eyes. She took another pair of black heels from the floor to ceiling shelves and moved to toss them onto the pile.

"Oh not those," Maura said, reaching her hand out before thinking better of it and pulling it back.

Jane squinted. "What do you mean not those? You have six other identical pair."

Maura gasped. "They're not identical. That's black patent, black suede, kitten heel."

"It's your money and your house." Jane shrugged. "You shouldn't be gettin' rid of any if ya don't want to."

Angela grumbled. "Jane, what exactly did you want?"

"What?" Jane asked, turning to her, confused.

"You were screaming for me out there like you were six years old again," Angela said, pointing toward the bedroom.

"Oh. Yeah, when is this gonna be over?"

"Ask Maura," Angela answered.

"Oh, I don't really think it's for me to say-" started Maura.

"Ok, so you're not the person who hired my mother to help you clean out your closet?" Jane responded.

"No," Maura answered, maybe a little too quickly.

"Great," Jane exclaimed, pushing herself off of the threshold with her shoulder, "let's kick her out and go do somethin' else."

"No - I- I mean yes. I did." Maura looked nervously between mother and daughter, both wanting to communicate something on the verge of threatening with just their eyes, it seemed.

Angela sighed, breaking the trance. "Ok, sweetheart. Maybe the shoes are a little too overwhelming for you." She walked over to a row of dresses and held up one she had never seen before. "When was the last time you wore this dress?"

Maura's eyes went wide and Jane stepped between them. "Ok, a'right, Ma. Let's just drop this whole closet thing and I will pay you double whatever she is paying to help me clean out the gutters this weekend. Whatever it takes to avoid World War 3 in… the garment district," she said waving her arms to all the clothes and shoes among them.

"Oh Janie. You couldn't afford me, even if your condo does sell," Angela said, patting her daughter's cheek before shooting a downcast look to the floor. Then she walked back to Maura's clothes and went through them, taking in each item.

Just as Jane was going to ask what the hell that was all about, the doorbell rang. Both she and Maura spared a glance out the door toward the hallway. "If that's dinner, I'll let you both rearrange _my_ closet," she said with a crooked smile. Maura beckoned her toward the staircase and away from her mother.

"Come with me," Maura said quietly, with a hand on Jane's arm.

Jane followed easily. "If you're doin' this to help Ma make extra money, please stop," she said when they reached the front hall. Maura only looked back at her meaningfully. "Baby, you are not responsible for her finances."

The doorbell rang again, but Maura stopped just before answering it. "Yes. But we both know something's wrong."

"Then why won't she just tell me?" Jane whined.

"I don't know," Maura answered honestly. She pulled open the door, and, shockingly, her sister stood on the other side.

"Hi," said Cailin, a duffle bag on her arm. She nodded to Jane, too, who smiled at her flatly.

"Cailin, hi. Come on in," Maura said, moving aside for her. "Is everything ok?"

"My mom went to Europe," Cailin said, stopping in the living room.

Maura was confused. "You didn't go with her?"

Cailin huffed the duffle bag back onto her shoulder uneasily, and Jane reached out for it. "Well, here. Let me help."

Cailin blushed, and turned away just enough to keep the bag out of reach. "No, it's fine. I got it," she said, but the smile she gave to Jane was wide and winning. "Fall classes just started, so I had to stay behind."

"Ah. A busy time, especially for someone pre-med," Maura offered kindly, though the atmosphere was awkward with Cailin just a few feet across from her, in the same place she had stood when she confronted Maura about lying to Hope in the fall of the previous year.

"Listen, I know this is a lot to ask. Can I stay with you?" Cailin asked her this time. Maura couldn't decide which conversation had been more frightening.

"With me? With us?" Maura responded, and when Cailin nodded with enthusiasm, she grinned, too. "Uh, yes. Sure, sure. You don't want to be home alone?" She was enveloped in a warm, sisterly embrace. She quite liked that.

"I wasn't alone," Cailin said with contempt, "My mother hired Mrs. Craberton to babysit me."

"You're nineteen," Jane said.

"I know, right?" Cailin agreed. "I knew you guys would understand."

Maura half-smiled. "So, how long is Hope gone?"

"Three weeks," said Cailin, hugging her again. "Thank you so much," she whispered into Jane's shoulder, having moved into her surprised arms next.

"Y-yeah," Jane replied, patting Cailin on the back, "anytime."

When Cailin pulled away, her phone rang and she answered it. "Hey Dylan. Yeah, I did the homework. It was like a discussion board thing on the inspiratory muscles," she said, already walking toward the hall that led to the upstairs rooms.

Maura turned around immediately. "Cailin, where are you going?"

To her credit, Cailin at least paused before she was out of sight. "Oh, is it ok if I just stay in one of your spare rooms?"

Maura shot Jane a worried look, but Jane just nodded encouragingly and winked. "Yes. yes," Maura said, "I-I'll show you where they are."

Jane held in a chuckle when Cailin replied. "That's ok. I can find it," she said, adjusting the overnight bag on her shoulder all while keeping her phone at her ear. "No, yeah, I'm listening. Just getting settled at my sister's place. Yeah. Oh my god. He so did not say that." Apparently the conversation on the other line was riveting, because she left without so much as a goodbye toward the stairs.

"Oh my god, he so did, too," Jane teased, turning to Maura and using her best Valley girl cadence. She laughed at her own joke until she saw the abject horror on Maura's face. "Babe?"

"Three weeks?!" Maura whined. "That's…"

Jane smirked. "You're the one who said yes."

"You should have stopped me!" Maura whispered sharply, shoving her finger into Jane's shoulder.

"Ow!" Jane griped, snatching the finger and kissing it in revenge. "Listen, Maura. One thing you'll learn is no matter what I think about them, I'm never gonna tell you to not spend time with your family. It's like, Rizzoli blasphemy or something. Maybe you'll get to know each other better."

"And what about you? Are you ok with having her here, in your house, for three weeks?" asked Maura.

Jane shrugged. "We spend so much time at work, it's not like we're gonna be all up in each other's business anyway," she said. When she felt the familiar buzz of a text message against her hip, she groaned. "Ok, we got a possible homicide in the parking lot of the hockey rink out by Suffolk Downs."

Maura took her purse and medical bag from Jane gratefully. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it'll be a nice reset for our relationship."

"Yeah. Didn't start out on the firmest of foundations, did it?" Jane asked over her shoulder as she gathered her keys from the counter. She nearly dropped them when the thumping bass from an alt-rock song boomed through the house. Cailin must have smuggled in some kind of speaker, because it was clearly coming from upstairs and it clearly wasn't Angela's musical taste.

Maura's jaw dropped. "That is like 100 decibels!"

Jane only winced in response.

"You know, I just read a report about hearing loss in adolescents - it's up thirty percent!" Maura shouted. "I'll meet you there," she said, marching toward the guest rooms.

Jane moved in front of her. "Whoa whoa whoa. Is that what you're gonna say to her?"

Maura scoffed. "Yes. She's premed - it should be convincing enough."

Jane shook her head. "You're her sister, not her professor. Let me take this one, a'right?" She bounded up the steps, two at a time, the music pulsating louder the closer she got, and Maura followed closely behind. The door to the bedroom right across from hers was closed, but Jane paid that no mind and swung it open. "Hey!" she shouted to Cailin, who laid on the bed, poring over _An Introduction to Laryngology_.

Cailin jumped at the human intrusion into the very curated digital assault on her inner ear, and reached for the remote on the bedspread. They were suddenly engulfed in quiet. "Hey," Cailin replied, a little out of breath. "What's up?"

Jane leaned her shoulder on the threshold and smiled crookedly. "I didn't peg you for indie music."

Cailin brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and blushed. "Well, maybe I'm full of surprises."

"Maybe," Jane volleyed back. She stuck her hands in her slack pockets. "So me and Maura have to go to work. Sorry we can't stay to keep you company. But keep the music down to a respectable level, ok? You're gonna give your sister a coronary."

Cailin smiled and nodded. "You got it, Jane. Have a good day - good night? At work," she said, shaking her head lightly at the awkwardness of it when Jane thanked her and walked away.

Maura waited in the hall, noting that the music did not return when Jane reemerged. "What was that?"

Jane patted her along on the small of her back. "Sweet talkin', Maura. People like it when you make them feel wanted."

Maura rolled her eyes as they trotted down the stairs and out the door. "You mean _women_ like it when _you_ specifically make them feel wanted."

"Same thing," Jane said cheekily when Maura grabbed her face and brought it forward before lowering herself into the passenger side seat of Jane's car.

"Definitely _not_ the same thing," Maura said, enjoying the feel of Jane's scrunched lips against her own when she pulled the detective in for a kiss. "I appreciate that your feminine wiles are a tool you're very comfortable using, but she's nineteen."

Jane laughed. "Gross, Maura. I wasn't flirting with her." When she took her place in the driver's seat, hair a little damp from the drizzle outside, Maura glared at her. "Ok, maybe I was flirting a little bit."

Maura only turned toward her window, pretending to admire the late evening glow against damp Beacon Hill townhomes.

"Are you serious?" Jane asked, and when Maura didn't answer, she tapped her fingers against the center console in a tense, musical beat. "Maura. You know why I was flirting with her?"

Maura turned back to her, inquisition on her face. "Why?"

"Because it was the fastest way to get what _I_ wanted," Jane said, "I didn't want to ride without you. So I buttered her up a little bit - I just wanted to make sure we could go to the scene together."

Maura grabbed her hand and smirked. "I suppose I can accept that. I like clingy you."

Jane made a vomiting motion. "I can't really control it, so at least it makes you happy."

"It does. But stop flirting with my teenage sister. Even if it is to get closer to me," Maura demanded.

"Because you think I'm going to get caught up and then run away with her to Florida?" Jane asked, laughing to herself as she turned onto the main drag towards East Boston.

"Because I think she's going to get caught up and shutting her down will be awkward for all of us," Maura said seriously, but with a smirk on her face. She took Jane's right hand in her own and kissed the scar on the back of it.

"No way," Jane said, more to convince herself than Maura. "She probably thinks I'm ancient." She paused, and then turned to Maura, desperate and nervous. "You don't think she would, do you?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Maura said pityingly. Her smile was open and mocking. "You have a lot to learn about very smart girls who feel like people their own age don't understand them."

* * *

"Where's Maura?" Frankie Jr. asked when Jane strode up to their victim, who was sprawled out face-first on the parking garage ground in a lake of her own blood.

"On the phone with Hope," Jane said distractedly, shining her flashlight on the dead woman with a jagged wound across her throat. "She'll be over in a bit. Cailin's staying with us while her ma's God knows where."

Frankie stood up from where he was perched and patted her on the back. "Yikes."

"Yeah yikes. Maura thinks the best way to go is to keep Hope in the loop. I argued against it, but, you know."

Frankie laughed. "You remember when Cousin Theresa stayed with us for a month because Anthony was on a drunken rampage all across town?"

Jane shook her head. "I thought Ma was gonna murder her before it was all said and done. They fought about everything from dinner to Days of Our Lives."

"Hopefully it's not that bad," Frankie said as his chuckles died down. "So, you think you can let me get some practice in before she comes over and gives us all the answers?"

Jane looked over to the private-ish corner where Maura spoke to her mother, and then the body. "Yeah sure. What'cha got?"

Frankie straightened his belt, pulled it up just the way his sister always did. "Ok. Well, Maura's always sayin' that the human body holds six quarts of blood, and there's about five of it on the ground."

"Good, that's good," Jane said with an approving grin. "What else?"

"I don't see many crime-scene markers," he continued, "did you find a purse or a wallet?"

"No. Frost said nothin' on the body or nearby," said Jane.

"She's not wearing much jewelry except a cheap charm bracelet. Maybe robbery was the motive?"

Jane shook her head. "Could be. But it's a pretty vicious way to kill somebody if all you want is their purse and jewelry." Maura approached them then, a pensive look on her face. "Hey Frankie, do me a favor, write down all the tags and get 'em to Frost. I want a record of every vehicle down here."

"You got it," Frankie replied, looking between the two women and then walking toward the row of cars farthest away from them.

Jane pointed down to the victim's neck when Maura arrived. "That's one end of her carotid artery." Maura nodded, and she pushed forward. "And I saw blood droplets far apart over here. She was in a hurry, and she was bleeding when she left the rink."

"The droplets would be consistent with her broken nose," Maura said. "But not with the jagged injury to her throat."

"See why that doesn't make sense?"

"What doesn't make sense?"

"Two separate injuries. Not related."

Maura stood closer now, looking up to where Jane shined her light above them. "How do you know that?"

"Well, the blood spatter says that she was ambushed from behind, but the droplets from her busted nose says that she was punched over there," said Jane, pointing about twenty yards away.

"Blood spatter isn't really a sound science," Maura said.

"I'm not tryin' to write a peer-reviewed paper, I'm just tryin' to get a picture of what happened. And that spray tells me that no one was standing in the way when it got all the way up there," Jane argued.

Maura nodded. "Fair enough," she acquiesced, and then she sighed. "Jane."

"Yeah, babe," Jane's eyes weren't on her as she walked directly under the spray to get a better look.

"Your mother agreed to stay with Cailin for a couple of hours until she gets settled. Do you think that's ok?" Maura asked, annoyed that Jane would make her say it loud enough for the cops around them to hear, that Jane wouldn't give her the courtesy of an intimate conversation when she had called her name so softly.

"Do I think it's ok that my mother is babysitting a grown adult? No, I do not," Jane said honestly, still investigating the blood around her shoes and above her head.

"Hope was so insistent," Maura said weakly in order to defend herself.

Jane finally shined the flashlight on her. "Hope should back off. Giving my mother license to be in the house at all hours is like asking for her to walk in on us. This is gonna escalate, Maura. But for right now, let's get this scene squared away. It's gonna be a late night."

* * *

"Puncture wound is point-five centimeters at the apex. Twelve point seven centimeters of jagged tear," Maura said to Jane, also just centimeters behind her at the autopsy table.

Jane placed the victim's fingertips onto her handheld scanner while Maura examined the victim's thyroid cartilage, now exposed to the open air. "It's like someone pulled her throat open with claws. What kind of weapon does that?"

Maura shrugged and Jane felt it more than saw it. "It snagged the carotid. Notice I said snagged."

"I noticed," said Jane. "Notice how much I would love to know what the murder weapon is."

"The carotid artery was pulled until it tore," Maura used her thumb and her index finger to spread the cut skin on the right side of the woman's neck.

Jane leaned in to see the jagged arterial rip. "I notice you said pulled," she said, and Maura moved a couple of steps back so that she could get a better look. Jane peered around Maura's expert fingers, and Maura trusted her when she moved them ever so slightly with her own fingers to get a better look.

Maura widened her grip, pulled against the skin just a little tighter, so that Jane could see exactly what she meant. "I did. By a weapon with a curved end."

Jane smirked. "Ok, we'll put out an APB for Captain Hook."

Maura smiled at the crown of Jane's head. "Stop deflecting. No one's in here but you and me. What do you see? What does that tell you?"

Jane blushed. "Somethin' not sharp. Also probably not a knife. At least, not an American one. Somethin' that required a lot of force to get in there, judging by all the ripping and bruising. Which also means she was alive when it happened."

Maura elbowed her shoulder, quite pleased. "Excellent. I won't tell anyone how smart you are. Or that you secretly like this."

Jane stood and glared at her, though it lacked bite. "Mmhmm."

Maura took her place in front of the victim, her forceps back in the perimortem wound. "There's a beige, gummy substance here."

Jane crossed her arms. "Lost boys' gummy bears?" They shared a laugh until Maura's phone rang out within the empty crime lab.

"Oh, it's Hope," she said nervously. "Hello?" Jane glared again, this time seriously. "Yes. But you know, I am just in the middle of an autopsy with Jane. No - no I don't know if Cailin did her homework, but she's a sophomore in college, so… Ok. Ok, I will. I'll make sure she's in bed by midnight. Ok. Bye."

"Wow," said Jane when she had hung up. "It's like ten-thirty here. Doesn't that mean it's like four AM over there?"

Maura nodded. "No wonder Cailin is frustrated. I am so glad that Constance taught me to be independent."

Jane widened her eyes and sucked her lips into a straight line in commiseration, but then the phone rang again. "Do. not."

"What do I do?" Maura asked, panicked.

"That's what they invented voicemail for. You just told her we were at work!" Jane stamped her foot.

"I can't - I can't. Hello?" Maura answered again anyway. Jane groaned. "Yes, yes. No, I did say I would monitor her and makes sure she takes her immunosupression drugs. No, no - it's ok. You have every right to worry. Alright, I'm sorry. Bye," she apologized, and when Jane glowered, she shirked. "I just keep forgetting that Cailin had a kidney transplant."

"How do you forget?" Jane nearly shouted, "It's your kidney! A kidney you imposed a two month celibacy on me for!" Maura just shrugged guiltily. Her computer beeped, providing a distraction for Jane's ire. "Agh. No hits. I gotta go upstairs and let the guys know. They should be talkin' to the lady we arrested at the scene right now. Do not answer any more calls from Hope!" she warned, squeezing Maura's forearm before walking out of the suite towards the elevators.

Maura waited until she was gone to pout.

* * *

"No match on the vic's prints," Jane announced to her particular corner of the bullpen before slumping into her chair.

Korsak removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, taking her cue to sit down. "We're holding hockey mom, but I don't think she's our killer - that lady's as squeamish as Frost."

Frost grimaced. "She puked all over the table when she saw the victim's photo."

Jane sighed. "Well shit. Did she ID the victim at least?"

"Nah," Frost said dejectedly.

"Damn. Maura's checkin' her dental records, but those results probably won't be in until mornin'. She's already goin' home. What else can we do?" asked Jane.

Korsak didn't brighten her mood. "Every car in that parking lot is accounted for."

Jane rose sharply and stomped over to their facts board. "Ok. There is no bus service in that area. There is no record of a taxi dropping anyone off at the rink, and there is no way that she walked more than half a block in the heels she had on, which means she had a goddamn car."

Frost joined her. "We showed all the parents, employees, and coaches her photo. The kids remembered her handing out helmet pads, but no one knew her name."

"And the killer took everything that could identify her, except her body," Jane said, crossing her arms.

"Maybe because he was interrupted?" offered Korsak, "He pulls the car back, stops by her body. Maybe he was about to dump her body in the trunk."

"Yeah, and that's when our hockey mom came out for a smoke. Maybe she interrupted him?" Frost followed their line of thinking to its logical end.

"Maybe," Jane said. She felt a tiny buzz against her hip and pulled out her phone. "What the hell?" she said when she saw the caller-ID.

"Who is it?" Frost asked, standing at attention.

Jane didn't answer. "Gimme a minute, guys," she said, not waiting for their response before she walked to the break room. "Cailin, hey."

" _Jane. Thank god you answered,"_ Cailin said. Jane could hear a heavy bassline on the other end. " _I thought you might be asleep."_

"No, I'm still at work. What'd ya need?" Jane let a little Boston slip, unsure exactly what was going on, feeling her cortisol ratchet up. "It's late."

" _I know, and I've gotta be home by midnight,"_ said Cailin, " _but my Uber just cancelled on us."_

"Ok…" Jane goaded.

" _Me and my friends need a ride home, Jane. Could you come get us? I know it's an inconvenience, but I wouldn't be asking if I weren't desperate."_

Jane scratched her head with the hand that wasn't holding her phone to her ear. "No, no. It's ok. Call Maura, yeah? She's already home and she'll be awake. She waits up for me when I get stuck here."

There was a pause where the music took over and there were harsh whispers in the distance. " _I… I can't, Jane. I already told her I was at the library studying."_

Ah. "Which isn't true. Where are you?"

" _At a frat house in Cambridge,"_ as Cailin explained, Jane sighed loudly. " _We thought it was going to be like a chill kickback, but it's turned into a full-blown rager. None of us have cars and we gotta get out of here because we've got exams in the morning. Please, Jane?"_

"A'right, a'right. Text me the address. I'm on my way. How many of you are there?"

" _Four, including me. We're all good kids, all premed. I promise,"_ Cailin cooed, trying to soothe Jane's inflamed conscience. " _We still need to study and all the libraries are closing. We'll be quiet, I swear."_

"Yeah yeah," Jane ignored the attempt, snatching her blazer and keys from her desk and then waving to her partners without so much as a farewell on her way to the elevators. "Any of you wasted? Because if so, we gotta leave them behind. We are _not_ telling Maura your ass was at a party, and I am _not_ sleeping on the couch because one of you can't keep a secret."

" _No way, none of us are drunk. Thank you, thank you. I'm texting you the address now."_

"I'll be there in fifteen," said Jane. She ended the call when she got to her car and instantly began an anxious drum against the leather of her steering wheel. The drive to Cambridge was quick at 11:15 PM, with empty streets that slowly grew louder the closer she got to BCU's campus. She slowed when she made her way behind the science buildings to a small neighborhood of Greek houses, peering out her windshield for the specific address that had been given to her. She shrugged her shoulders inside her blazer, which was starting to feel rumpled over her blue v-neck after basically two whole work days crammed into one. She turned down her stereo, music quieting from a sensual thrum to a quiet pulse in order to help her better concentrate. When she pulled up to the right place, she redialed Cailin's number. "Hey, I'm outside. You better come out quick before I see somethin' I have to bust up," she said by way of greeting.

A few minutes later, Cailin and three equally young people ambled toward her dark blue Civic. She spared a pained glance toward all the duffle bags in the back seat - one for a change of clothes during a stakeout, one for softball practice, one for the gym. She would have to get out and throw them in the trunk. She pushed the driver's side door open and grabbed them before popping the lid. "Sorry. Should be enough room now. It'll be a close fit, but the drive home's ten minutes, tops."

Cailin smiled widely from the passenger side when Jane made it back into the car. "Jane, this is Dylan, Akilah, and Rebecca," she said, turning to the three stuffed in the back seat. "Guys, this is Jane. My sister's girlfriend."

Jane looked briefly in the rearview mirror to acknowledge them as she pulled away from the house. "Hey," she barked, waiting for them to say all their greetings in return before sparing a glance at Cailin. "Listen, kid. I'm bailin' you out this time, but you can't make a habit out of lying to Maura. We're takin' a big risk by bringing all of you home anyway. If she's downstairs when we get there, I'm toast. I won't be able to cover for you."

"I know, I know. This is the first and the last time. We just got caught up tonight. And lied to. I'll be smarter from here on out," Cailin promised, patting Jane's free hand before turning to join her friends' conversation in the back.

When Jane pulled into her usual spot outside of her Beacon Hill home, she cut the engine and locked the doors before her passengers could spill out onto the street. "Alright, everyone, listen up. That," she said, pointing to her front door, "is the house you will be going into. Quietly. Respectfully. I don't care about me, but the lady in there right now has a real, big-person job. Where she routinely talks to the governor and everything. So, tiptoe up the stairs and into Cailin's room, and study. And then go home. Without disturbing her. She's got work early tomorrow."

"You got it, Jane," said the boy with one side of his head shaved, Dylan, in a weird echo of Cailin hours before, and Akilah and Rebecca nodded in agreement with him.

"Great," Jane said, satisfied enough that they would at least _try_. "Let's go, then. I just pulled a double and I'm tired." She exited and trotted to Cailin's door, just in time to grasp the handle as Cailin was opening it. She held it open and Cailin gave her a small smile, with her three friends oblivious to the exchange.

They walked up to the courtyard, only for Jane to see her mother, arm-in-arm with Lieutenant Cavanaugh, entering from the side street. "Ma? I thought you were home. Watching her," she said accusingly, pointing to Cailin, who had walked ahead to open the door for her friends. Cavanaugh nodded to Jane, his forehead suspiciously sweaty in the crisp fall air. "Sir," she acknowledged him even though she wanted to bury her head in the sand. The evening continued to deteriorate.

"She said she needed to go study, so I let her," Angela said defensively. "What are you doing with them?"

"She didn't. She went to a party. And I just got back from picking her up because she lied to you and to Maura that she was out studying. Supposedly that's what they're here to do now," Jane explained, pulling Angela to the side. To his credit, Cavanaugh allowed it, waited patiently near Angela's roses, making damn sure he heard nothing of their conversation. "Is this a thing again?" Jane asked, looking between the two of them.

"None of your business, Jane. Go to bed. You look awful," Angela replied, shutting her down with a condescending kiss to her cheek. She left Jane standing near the back door, flabbergasted.

"What the hell is tonight?" Jane wondered aloud as she pushed into the warm house. She heard barely a peep as she made her way upstairs, and counted it as a blessing rather than a sign of no-good. She noticed the office light on at the end of the hallway, the bedroom light conspicuously off, so she walked over to see Maura, wrapped in an oversized cardigan and her contact lenses replaced by chunky black-framed glasses, typing away at her Macbook. "Cailin made it home with twenty minutes to spare," said Maura without looking up, "I'll give her that. Though I will say that I didn't expect it to be with three other people."

"You and me both," said Jane quietly, stopping in the doorway and crossing her arms around herself.

"I also didn't expect you to be the one bringing her here," Maura said pointedly, looking up over the rim of her glasses, not moving her head. "Why _are_ there four of them?"

"Well, I guess her Uber cancelled and so she called me for a ride. When I got there, they all were waiting. She said they needed more time to study. Hence the gaggle of kids," said Jane, sighing. She kept her distance, Maura looking too imposing behind her ornate oak desk, surrounded by the regalia of a lifetime of affluence and academics.

"Hmm," Maura hummed thoughtfully. She closed her computer. "Why didn't she call me?"

"You're her big sister. Whom she is tryin' desperately to impress. Of course she wouldn't want to burden you," Jane lied easily, kindly, in the way that she always did when it was to Maura.

Maura got up and tugged Jane toward the hall, turning out the light and leading them to their bedroom, right across from the guest room Cailin had occupied. Presumably now with her friends. "Do you remember that conversation we had just after Paddy's trial, about how you tell me kind lies, all the time?"

"Y-yeah," Jane sputtered, bright red both at having been caught and at the memory of exactly what they were doing when they had it. "I remember."

"I think, this time, it's better if I don't ask," Maura admitted, removing her clothing as she went about the room, ending in a satin black robe in front of the mirror with her toothbrush in her hand. "Since I am not her parent and she's just here for a little while. But," she warned, watching Jane come near in the mirror's glass, "don't start telling me unkind lies. Because I'm not going to open my legs for you every time I want you to tell me the truth. I'm just going to be angry."

"Yes ma'am," Jane said quietly, and gravely. When Maura looked up skeptically, she put up her hands. "I mean it. Tonight wasn't really a big deal, promise. And they'll be gone before you know it."

"Let's hope so. Otherwise I don't know how we're going to get through these three weeks," Maura said around the toothpaste and vibrating brush in her mouth.

Jane let the gravity of the statement sink in, staying quiet as she removed her boots first, placing them at the foot of the bed for the next morning. Her blazer went in the dry cleaning hamper next to her dresser, and then her badge and gun went into the top drawer on her side. She walked back to the bathroom and prepared her own toothbrush while Maura washed her face next to her. When she spit the froth out of her mouth and patted it dry, she leaned her hip against the counter. "You'll never guess what I saw when I was bringin' the kids up," she said in a conspiratorial truce.

Maura was intrigued, and her raised eyebrow betrayed it. She smoothed the last of her night cream under her eyes and then started to undo Jane's belt. "Oh?"

Jane grunted at the rough tug it took to divorce the tooth of her belt from its loop. She exhaled in tired relief when her pants were unbuttoned and her fly pulled down. "Ma, walking up to her door, with Cavanaugh. _Clearly_ back from a late movie, popcorn bucket and all."

" _Interesting_ ," Maura said, pulling Jane's tee out of its tuck. "I never understood why they broke up in the first place. Put those in the hamper and I'll take the dry cleaning in the morning."

Jane hopped out of her pants and did as she was told. "Whatever the reason was, they should have stayed that way," she grumbled.

"Why?" Maura asked honestly.

Jane stood, feeling a little sheepish in boyshorts, black business socks, and her blue v-neck. "Uh, it's weird. And it makes him awkward around me and Frankie at work," she answered, admitting to no one but herself that it sounded like a dumb reason.

"If he makes your mother happy, you should let him. Life's too short," Maura said, removing her robe and climbing into her side of the bed.

Jane hurried to follow, tossing her tee and the plain black bra beneath it onto the chair closest to her side. She sat at the edge of the bed, close to her pillow, and undid her watch's clasp before turning out her lamp and sliding in. "What if she's back with him because of her money issues?" she asked quietly after several minutes, almost hoping that Maura had fallen asleep. She turned on her stomach and hugged her pillow to her face to hide her fears.

Maura heard them anyway. She rolled over in the dark to find Jane's back with her hand. "Your mother doesn't strike me as the type. I think we just have to accept that she's not going to tell us what's going on until she's ready," she whispered, hoping the wide swaths she was making against deltoids, trapezii, latissimi dorsi, would be calming enough. She wondered if she should even say what she was about to. "When I got home… she was in the kitchen, baking all kinds of desserts. Almost like she was gearing up for a bake sale."

"Shit," Jane cursed, having seen this reaction before several times in her youth. She sighed into her pillowcase. "That's not good. I'll have to talk to her in the morning."

"Well, that makes two uncomfortable conversations to be had, then," Maura said, flipping onto her back and fluffing the pillow behind her. "I need to talk to Cailin about bothering you while you're at work."

Jane's eyes shot open in the dark. "Maura, you don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do. Hope's not on a plane here, not abandoning her next MEND clinic, only because she's entrusted Cailin to my care," said Maura. "I need to make sure that she comes to me first."

"She said it was the first and last time, for what it's worth," Jane replied.

"Don't fight me on this, please," Maura commanded.

Jane felt compelled to obey. "I won't," she said. After a few beats of silence, she pushed herself up on her elbows and leaned close to Maura's face. "We sound like parents."

"Except we skipped all the fun parts and catapulted straight into the teenage years," Maura complained, huffing when Jane tried to kiss the annoyance away, but she found herself turning toward the affection anyway.

"Maybe let's just think of this as more practice, then," Jane said, vowels all muffled by the way her mouth hovered so close to the crook of Maura's neck. "A trial run. She's a pain in the ass and she's one of the _good_ ones. Still want a kid?"

"Absolutely," Maura grumped, "you're not getting out of it that easily." She used her hips to generate the amount of power needed to pin Jane on her back. She had meant it in good fun, had anticipated Jane to struggle, even if only halfheartedly under her, and so she was taken aback by the way they simply watched one another instead.

"We're good, right?" asked Jane, glancing down at where the apex of Maura's thighs slid against her abdomen for just a moment. Then she looked back up, keen for an answer.

"We're good. We'd be better if we forgot about them for a little bit," said Maura, nodding in approval when Jane's hands trailed their way up her bent legs. "Cailin and your mother."

Jane hummed. "They're troublemakers," she teased. "Maybe we should ditch 'em and hole up in a hotel til they get the hint."

Maura chuckled softly. "We should. But we won't. Because they're family."

When Jane agreed, they kissed until they were breathless, until kissing led to writhing together under the covers, until writhing led to sighing and sighing led to spent sleep. They would figure out the rest in the morning, together.


	32. Chapter 32

Maura woke later than she was used to by a half hour. Sunlight already speckled her bedroom, rays settling against her face and the pillow below it, urging her to get up and heed the call of the morning. She reached blindly for the other side of the bed, fingers palpating, but found it empty.

She looked up, squinty and still orienting to the waking world, but there were traces of what had happened all over the room: several tank tops hanging over the top of the chair in the corner of the room, three pairs of New Balances at the foot of it, untied and laces pulled loose. When she glanced down to the end of the bed, there was an old hoodie, pooled as if it were discarded in haste. Jane had gone for a run, and Maura knew because Jane wrestled with morning runs like Jacob wrestled with God - it always involved herculean decisions, a cataloguing of all her exercise tops, at least four switches to find the exact right shoes, a prayer for strength before she finally laced up her chosen pair and decided to bite the bullet. It seemed there had even been a struggle as to whether or not to don outerwear, given the abandoned sweatshirt. Maura hoped that Jane picked a different one for the dropping temperatures of late September, rather than choosing to brave the cold with no sleeves at six in the morning.

But, that was really all that she could do: hope. Hope, and throw on a nightgown in anticipation of some coffee. She grabbed her matching floral robe from behind the door, draping it loosely over her shoulders, letting it flow as she made her way down the stairs, anticipating a quiet kitchen and a possibly very sweaty Jane already with her own mug in hand.

She cinched it tight when she heard voices almost completely foreign to her.

"Oh my god, shut up. Why would you let him do that?" said the one she recognized, Cailin's, to the girl next to her, whisking what looked like pancake batter at the end of the kitchen island. There was another girl sitting on the counter behind them, peeling potatoes.

It looked like they were making breakfast, and Maura could tell because every possible breakfast ingredient, including bombs of flour, littered the island counter. She paled and gulped. "Good- good morning," she said, in a subtle sarcasm that she had learned from Jane.

"Oh hey," Cailin replied, her tone as sunny as the morning pouring in around them, offering her sister a bright smile. The other two girls smiled at her, too.

"You're up early," Maura tried again, smoothing her hands over the tops of her covered thighs and searching for an explanation for the apocalypse in her main room.

"Yeah, we never went to bed," Cailin said, flipping the most recently poured pancake in one of the several pans she had on the stovetop.

Maura bit her lower lip to keep from scoffing. "Right," she said, "why go to bed? You don't need any sleep for rigorous pre-med coursework."

The girl at the end of the island shifted her braids from one shoulder to the other and laughed airily. "I'm sure you didn't need it, either, since you're a genius, like Cailin," she said, and Cailin blushed without acknowledging her. "She aces everything with or without sleep."

"Does she?" Maura asked, looking skeptically at her sister, who was still in the previous day's clothes.

Cailin regarded her just the same, in her rumpled nightgown and sleep-mussed hair. "You uh, you can take a shower, if you want," she said, as delicately as a nineteen year-old could.

Maura looked down at her clothes and narrowed her gaze. "Am I embarrassing you?" she asked.

"I think you look great," called the blonde from by the sink.

Akilah, the one with the braids and pancake batter, agreed. "Yeah, me too. It's great when women your age look good even without makeup."

Maura choked. "My age?"

"It's a compliment, Maura," Cailin said, grinning softly.

Before Maura could respond, the back door opened and Angela swept in, matching the joviality of the teenagers that had descended on her Beacon Hill home. "I almost tripped over this young man! He was laid out right on the walkway," she said, patting the shoulder of the boy with the half-shaved head. He carried a backpack in his arms, along with one of Maura's couch pillows.

Cailin laughed. "Dylan's from Santa Cruz. He misses sleeping outside," she explained, staring at him sweetly.

"Yeah, I love sleeping under the stars. Your brick walkway's not very comfortable, though," he said, taking a seat at the island and tossing his things to the floor next to his feet.

"It's not meant to be comfortable for sleeping," Maura countered, feeling herself drawn into whatever teenage atmosphere had seemed to take over her kitchen.

"Man, that looks good," Dylan said, either not hearing her or ignoring her, eyes trained only on the plate in Caitlin's oven mitt. There were eggs, bacon, and two whopping blueberry pancakes.

"Cool. Good thing it's for you then," Cailin said to him, winking and setting his food on the placemat in front of him.

Angela looked impressed. Maura was, albeit begrudgingly, a little impressed, too. Angela, however, was the only one ready to forsake her pride and say it. "Cailin, that looks delicious," she commented.

"Yours is in the oven, Mrs. Rizzoli," Cailin said, pulling one plate out just as Angela's went in.

"Thank you," Angela said sincerely, pursing her lips to hide her smile at Maura's annoyance. "And where's _my_ unruly kid, huh? Still upstairs?" she said more to Maura than anyone else, trying to bring her back into a conversation she had rapidly moved to the background of.

But the front door opened, and then all eyes were on the panting woman standing on the threshold, an answer to the question. "God, Maura, that smells-" Jane started, tugging her sweatshirt off of her sweaty torso, revealing only a sports bra underneath, until she realized they were very much not alone. She froze when she counted the exact number of teenagers she had brought into Maura's home the night before, and saw exactly what they had done to the kitchen.

"She went for a run," answered Cailin, meeting her gaze with warmth, "and this is her plate."

"Shit," Jane, uncharacteristically flustered, walked slowly, looking at Maura as if for permission to take the plate being given to her. Maura offered her no such absolution, only looked her up and down, from her running shoes, to her lithe legs in short shorts, and her completely bare abdomen. "Sorry, babe," she muttered only for Maura to hear, and then she turned to Cailin. "Let me just get a shirt," she said, recalling their conversation about flirtation from the evening before and already on her way toward the stairs.

Maura grabbed her arm instead, apparently taking pity. "Sit, eat," she said. She pointed to the seat next to Dylan where the pancakes steamed seductively. Jane didn't need to be told twice. "Cailin, you are quite the hostess, making breakfast for Dylan, and for Jane… and for Jane's mother," Maura said, turning to her sister, "but can I speak to you upstairs?"

"Sure," Cailin said, one last plate in hand. "You wanna talk now, or eat before your food gets cold?"

With breakfast in her face, smelling so tasty and salty-sweet, Maura sputtered. "I-"

Jane smirked at the interaction and then patted the last seat next to her. "Follow your own advice," she said, her smile brightening from teasing to joy when Maura did so. She chewed without shame on a hefty bite and swiveled around so that her open legs faced Maura's right side.

Maura rolled her eyes, but leaned in to kiss a sweaty temple anyway, just in front of Jane's ear, where she whispered now. "How are you not freaking out about all this?"

Jane returned the favor, leaning in, too. "I grew up in chaos, remember? This is normal to me."

Maura thought that sounded like exhilarating torture. She looked around her, a blend of her family and her sister's friends eating, talking, communing with one another. Jane was right: chaos abounded - mostly in the mess all around, but also in the cacophony of voices and warm laughter. Even Jane, pretty quiet as she wolfed down her food, set Maura's heart to chaotically beating with her sweat and her genuine effort to get to know the kids that had duped her into a place to stay the night before.

Suddenly, Maura wanted it all, every morning. Maybe not the filth… _definitely_ not the filth, but all the rest of it. She could stomach the cortisol that swimmed around her brain because it was completely washed away by all the serotonin flooding the room. Flooding her.

She guessed her talk with Cailin could wait just a few minutes - she needed to finish her breakfast anyway.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Jane said to Maura when the undergrads _not_ related to Maura had dispersed and her mother had gone off to work. She rinsed her plate and placed it into the dishwasher exactly the way Maura liked it.

"Do you _see_ the mess in here?" Maura asked incredulously. "You are helping me clean this up. This is your fault."

"My fault?" Jane gasped, standing up as quickly as her spine and her indignation would allow. "When I left this morning there was nary a peep comin' from the kitchen."

"You brought them here!" Maura whispered harshly, even though Cailin was in her room upstairs.

"A'right, a'right," Jane said, hands up. "I did. I did do that. Go upstairs and shower. I'll take care of it."

"No. No - I'm not going to make you do it by yourself," Maura shook her head as she spoke.

"Well go up anyway. I'll get a head start," Jane said. She smirked as she watched Maura fiddle with the tie of her robe, a telltale sign of her discomfort. "You can help me when you get back."

"Ok," Maura replied gratefully. Jane was already shaking out a trash bag for food scraps and empty containers. "One of her friends said I looked good without makeup… for my age."

Jane barked with laughter. "They're teenagers, Maura. To them, anybody over thirty might as well be half-dead." Maura only shrugged, clearly still affected. "C'mon - you have to know you look beautiful. All the time."

"A shower will definitely help. Give me ten minutes," Maura said. Jane agreed easily.

Maura reappeared more like twenty minutes later, but her hair was done and she was in a black v-neck tee and jeans. She even wore heels. Jane had cleared most of the counter of clutter, including eggs, milk, and flour canisters. "You smell good, too, for the ripe old age of thirty-seven," Jane said, tying a second trash bag together and setting it at the end of the island.

"That I can do regardless of age. I just need enough money for my favorite perfume," Maura replied, in a considerably better mood than when she had left. "I wanted to _scream_ when I saw my kitchen."

"Yeah, well, Ma says kids push buttons you didn't even know you had," said Jane, pulling cleaning supplies from under the sink. "When I was nineteen, she threatened to kick me out at least once a week."

"But she's not my child. She's an adult… child," Maura argued, putting on an apron and cleaning gloves. "Maybe Hope is right in treating her like a kid."

Jane sighed heavily. "Baby. All she did was have a couple of friends over and make a mess," she reasoned, looking down when she felt flour stick to her bare belly after she leaned over to swipe a sponge across the counter. She tried to wipe the streak away, but it only spread. Ok, so, the mess _was_ pretty annoying.

That incensed Maura further, seeing Jane get dirty with Cailin's carelessness. "Which we are cleaning up!"

"Yeah, but she wasn't tryin' to get under your skin. She just needs to learn. Set some boundaries - somethin' Hope clearly hasn't done," said Jane.

Maura sprayed all-natural cleaning solution liberally on all surfaces, scrubbing vigorously. "You know, I barely know her. I don't want her to hate me."

"Maura, she's a good kid. Set up some rules and stick to 'em. She'll stick to 'em, too. She worships you," Jane said, putting her things down and smiling softly, making Maura look at her.

"No, she doesn't," Maura said, blushing, shaking her head.

Jane closed the distance between them and laid a bunch of loud, wet, kisses on Maura's cheek, her nose, her lips. "Yeah she does. I do, too," she said, wrapping her arms tighter around Maura's waist when she felt forearms pressing against her chest.

"Stop," Maura said weakly, kissing back anyway. "I'm clean and you are not."

"You'll get over it," Jane asserted. Maura's resistance melted when she said, "put ya hands on me." Gloves came off and Jane's embrace was returned. She pinned Maura against the island counter as softly as she could, and stepped in between her widened legs as they kissed.

A cleared throat interrupted them both. "Guys, you have a guest," Cailin said, hustling around the kitchen and dropping a used mug of tea onto the counter.

"Uh-uh. This is my house," Jane dissented by kissing one last time down the side of Maura's face, loud enough to be obnoxious, but she broke them apart just after. "You got class?"

"Yup," Cailin said, sparing Jane a knowing smile before looking at Maura, who crossed her arms in a little bit of embarrassment. Then she looked at her phone. "Crap. And I am so late," she complained, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Bye! Have a good day! Try to stay out of trouble!"

Jane looked pointedly at Maura until Maura spoke. "Um, Cailin?" she asked, and when Cailin turned around, she said, "I would appreciate it if you cleaned up after yourself."

"Sure, yeah," Cailin replied, looking back at her mug. "I'll do it when I get home for lunch, ok? Bye."

"Bye," Maura said brightly. She turned to Jane for appraisal, who tried not to laugh. "How was that?"

"Good," Jane said, nodding, her voice light and teasing.

"Yeah?" Maura asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Jane answered, tamping down on her lips. "It's uh, it's good that we're gonna have like eighteen years of practice before we have a teenager of our own." Maura pouted. "It was good, a'right? A good first start. I really should bathe."

* * *

Stuck squarely in the mid-afternoon rush at the cafe, Jane took her chance and waved her mother over between customers in line, pointing to the coffee machine. When Angela did come, she was holding the decaf pot and two mugs, and Jane frowned. "No, Ma, I want regular."

Angela just tossed her head in Maura's direction, who sat across from Jane. "No. You can't drink caffeinated beverages this late in the day, Jane," said Maura, shutting her down.

Jane sighed loudly. "Ok. Maura says I can't drink it so can I have an IV drip, please?" she asked Angela, who set the pot down and smacked Jane's shoulder.

"No. But you can try one of these instead," Angela told her, reaching behind them to a cart with a large homemade sign that said _Angela's Pick-Me-Ups._ "I tried a new espresso brownie recipe."

Jane's eyes grew and she snatched the brownie from her mother, unwrapping it and breaking off a chunk to try. When she moaned, her voice deep and unguarded, Maura regarded her with a raised eyebrow and an impressed smile.

"I'm glad that you like it so much. Business is booming!" Angela said excitedly.

Maura looked at the amount of desserts on the cart and worried her hands. "Angela, you should really be offering some healthy snacks."

"I do," Angela replied, "but they just don't sell."

"Baby come on. Don't be so virtuous," Jane interrupted, handing Maura a piece of her treat.

Maura took it reluctantly, but hummed as soon as it hit her mouth. "Hmm. Oh, my," was all that she could say. She even brushed away imaginary crumbs from her teal sleeveless blouse, just to gather herself.

Jane, with a self-satisfied grin, offered her more, which she took.

Angela pulled a notebook from her green apron pocket. "See? Look, I sold forty-five brownies yesterday, and I've been averaging an extra hundred dollars a week."

"I'm glad you're savin' for retirement, Ma," Jane said, looking pointedly at Maura as she said it, who widened her eyes back.

Angela huffed. "Yeah, me, too. Excuse me, girls. I got customers." She took the decaf coffee back with her to the counter.

"Did you see her face?" Jane asked Maura as soon as she walked away.

"I think she's hiding something," Maura confirmed. "Those are all the things she was baking last night - but maybe she just doesn't want to burden you."

"There are certain things my mother will not talk about, and money problems is at the top of that list," Jane said. "Speaking of problems, though, have you talked to Cailin in the last five seconds?"

"Well, I told her she has to check in with me every thirty minutes," Maura said matter-of-factly.

"Ok, no. You're the one with the problem, Maura," Jane lamented as she laid her head on the table.

"Me? I'm just trying to create boundaries! Just this morning you were telling me to create boundaries," Maura gasped, hurt.

Jane looked up and sighed. "Give her what she wants - a relationship. Ok? She came to you as a big sister, not as another mother."

"I'm just not sure if I know how to do that," Maura admitted.

"Well," said Jane, thinking for a few moments, "how'd you give me a relationship?"

Maura narrowed her gaze. "I slept with you."

Jane blushed in response. "No, not that kind of relationship. Just our friendship, our relationship outside of that. How'd you do it?"

"Oh. Well, I think I just got to know you. I wanted to spend time with you, and I was willing to do things I wouldn't normally have done in order to be around you," Maura answered honestly.

"There you go. Just let her be herself, and show her you wanna spend time with her. She's gonna have to follow some of your rules since she's in your house. But… and this is a big but, you're gonna have to back off and let her be an adult that makes her own mistakes. And if you do that, maybe next time she's up a creek, she'll call you instead of me," Jane explained.

"I can at least try," Maura said.

Jane nodded, pleased enough by this answer, and stood up from her seat, holding out her right hand for Maura to take. "That's all we can ask for. Now let's go - I'm hopin' those results are back on the sticky stuff in our victim's wound."

* * *

Tommy Rizzoli, youngest of the three Rizzoli kids, and usually the most wayward of them, carried three trash bags full of bottles and cans up Maura's walkway. He stopped at the mailbox just before the courtyard entrance and pulled the various envelopes out, thinking on what life events had brought him to this very specific moment in time - TJ's birth, the Storrow Center collapse, Lydia's inability to see him as an adequate provider, his own inability to hold down (or even find) a stable job, and finally, his father's unending letdowns.

This time, luckily, the cans and bottles weren't for him. He had been painting houses on a crew for the past few months, and had been doing well at it, even if it was a day-by-day kind of job, and he didn't need the extra money. At least, not recycling money. But his mother? His mother did. And so, for the way she stuck by him when he was in prison, when he had no place to go and no money, and when his son came along, he would stick by her now, not question her. He'd bring her what she needed whenever she asked. And right now, she asked for recycling. So, he had it for her.

When he dropped the bags at her doorstep, he rang the guest house doorbell once even though he knew that she wouldn't be home. As he turned, he saw a young girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty, with her keys threaded through her knuckles at the sight of him. "Oh, hey, whoa," he said, hands up, smiling nervously. "Easy."

"Who are you?" she asked, staring him down like he _wasn't_ half a foot taller than her and at least fifty pounds heavier.

"Tommy Rizzoli," he said, "Jane's brother. Just droppin' off some stuff for my Ma. Who're you?"

She sighed, immediately putting her hand down. "Oh. Hi - I'm Cailin, Maura's sister. Nice to meet you," she said, bright and bubbly again, offering him a handshake.

He wiped his palm sweat onto his jeans before obliging. "Nice to meet you, too. You just moved to Boston, right?"

Cailin smiled. Rizzolis knew more about her than she thought. "I am."

"How do you like it?" Tommy asked, "Don't say anything unless you think it's the greatest place on Earth."

"Ok, I won't," Cailin said, laughing. "I love it here. There's definitely an energy that I haven't experienced anywhere else."

"Damn right," Tommy said. "Well, Cailin, should we go in? I got Maura's mail and it seems dumb to keep standing out here in the cold."

"Sure," Cailin said. She opened the door for him and they both ambled into the kitchen to see Jane and Maura enjoying a glass of wine at the kitchen island as dinner cooked.

"You know, you could be one of the most impatient human beings I know," Maura said, obviously mid-conversation, swiping a hand over Jane's midsection in affection as she took plates from the cupboard behind them, despite her annoyance.

"Hmm, but you're not sure. Maybe you should test it," Jane teased. She turned at the intrusion and then smiled at the two people walking in. "Hey," she said to both of them.

"Hey sis. Got your mail," Tommy replied, holding it up to her.

"Oh, thanks, Tommy. Do you mind putting it on the desk?" Maura asked, grabbing two more plates to set out at the sight of them.

"Sure," he said, doing so. "Can you let Ma know I left somethin' for her?"

Jane frowned. "She's not home?"

"Nah. Cavanaugh took her out to dinner," Tommy said.

Jane wondered how it was that Tommy knew that before she did, and when her mother had gotten so secretive. "What did you leave her?"

"Cans and bottles for recycling," he replied, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

Maura could sense the tension simmering between the two of them, and she motioned Cailin toward the kitchen, away from their discussion by the dining table, to avoid any possible collateral damage. Cailin widened her eyes and followed wordlessly.

"Why are you bringin' garbage to Ma?" Jane asked harshly. "And what's this I hear about you usin' some TV lawyer to settle your suit with the Storrow Center?"

Tommy bristled. "Because she needs my help, Jane. She asked for my help. And I'm not discussin' that with you. It's my business," he said, his voice rising with his agitation.

"What about TJ, huh?" Jane asked, not backing down.

"What about him?" Tommy asked back. "Look, I hired Mark because he said he can get me the money now. Who cares if he's on TV? Frost's guy says it's gonna be at least another year and I need it now. I need to show Lydia that I can provide for her and TJ."

Jane put her thumbs in her belt in a show of aggression and big-sisterly superiority. "I think it's short-sighted and stupid," she growled.

Tommy looked truly flummoxed, with open eyes and a slack jaw. "You can't see me as anything other than a stupid screw-up, can you?" He said quietly, backing out towards the door.

Maura hated to see this whenever it happened. "Wait, Tommy, stay and have some dinner," she offered, despite all of the grief Jane had just given him.

"No, I can't. I just came by to drop off the cans and bottles for Ma," Tommy said as he opened the door and stepped out into the evening air. "It was nice meetin' you, Cailin."

"Nice to meet you, too," Cailin called out, hoping that he heard her before he slammed the door shut.

Jane stood, fuming, at the writing desk for several minutes. She remained silent, tall and dark, brooding until something in her seemed to slide into place and she took the mail from the desk to the island. She set it in front of Maura and sucked her teeth. "I'm sorry. Both of you. I really shouldn't be that hard on him, and definitely not in front of you."

"Sibling relationships can be complicated, my love," Maura said softly, with a warm smile and a wink for her own sister. Then she slid Jane's still half-full glass of wine across the island to her. "That should help."

Jane took it and sipped. "You're the expert now, huh?" she asked, drumming her fingers against the granite.

Cailin watched them. "I'm guessing you're not gonna offer me a glass of wine," she said, in typical teenager fashion.

Jane chuckled, and deferred to Maura, who said, "We could pretend it's France."

"It's ok. I got a guy who can buy me a six-pack," Cailin teased, pulling out her iPhone. Jane laughed openly, and Maura looked at her in horror. "I'm kidding," she said.

Maura finally, _finally_ , let herself laugh, too. She started to sort the mail as she waited for dinner to finish. "Sit with us. Have dinner."

"Ok, cool," Cailin agreed, setting her bag down by an armchair in the living room and making her way back to a stool by the island.

Jane grinned at them both, at their rickety progress, until Maura gasped and dropped a large envelope to the counter. "Maura? What's up?"

"It's from the IRS. I think it's an audit," Maura said, regaining some composure and picking it up again. She handled it as if it were poisoned.

"Good thing we're not married yet," kidded Jane, smirking until she realized Maura's face wasn't changing. "What're you worried about? You break out into hives if you lie. I mean, if you cheat on your taxes, you're probably gonna get leprosy."

"It's not for me; it's for your mother," Maura said simply, looking up to meet Jane's gaze. Jane was next to her in an instant. She took the envelope from Maura's hand and held it over a steaming pot of sauce on the stove. "What are you doing? Mail tampering is a crime."

Jane, the officer of the law, sworn to protect and uphold, removed the paperwork as quickly as she could. "Fuck," she said tersely, angrily. "She owes 27K in back taxes," she explained, eyes still scanning the letter.

Cailin tried to melt into the background, and Maura was shocked. "What? How is that possible? She doesn't even make that in a year!"

"My father," Jane answered with disdain. "He probably cheated on their taxes. No wonder she's been tryin' to make extra money."

"Tommy probably knows," said Maura, "that's why he's recycling for her."

Jane groaned. "Well, why does she tell Tommy and not me and Frankie?" Maura scrunched up her face, but said nothing. Jane pulled back from the half-hug they had found themselves in. "What? What's that face, Maura?"

"Well… Tommy doesn't judge," Maura replied.

"I don't judge!" Jane said quickly and indignantly, and Maura only raised her eyebrows, looking between Jane and Cailin.

"And what was that with Tommy just now?" she asked. "I'm just saying, maybe he sat down and listened to her, without imposing his own opinions about it."

Jane threw her head back and swallowed thickly. "A'right, a'right. Point taken. How am I gonna pay off twenty-seven thousand dollars? The condo just sold, but I can't get my hands on that much cash for at least a couple weeks," she asked timidly, after a few moments of pregnant pause.

"I don't think you do, Jane. She hasn't asked you to. She hasn't asked us to," Maura said simply.

Jane just nodded. She looked suddenly resigned. "I'm gonna kill my Pop. He better not show his face around here, because I'm gonna kill him."


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter, there are only two left! Thank you for reading and commenting to all of you who have so far.

"C'mon Janie," Frankie Jr., wrench in hand and oil rag over his shoulder, pleaded with his sister to see reason, but it was all for naught. "Try to see it from his perspective. Do I think it's a dumbass decision? Yeah. But I learned a long time ago that ya can't talk Tommy out of somethin' he's already got his mind made up about."

Jane, in jeans, a leather jacket, and a mean scowl, took a swig of her beer while she watched her brother tinker with his motorcycle out in Maura's courtyard. "Well we could at least try - this lawyer is gonna screw his chances of gettin' the full payout if he goes through with it," she said, leaning against the brick wall of the main house and looking down at her bottle. Her other hand fiddled with a loose string in her pocket as she wove it around her index and middle fingers in an unrelenting pattern.

"I don't disagree. But I also know that I've never had the pressures of a kid, of a family on me. So, agh," he replied, waving his hand as if to dismiss the topic of conversation altogether.

"Those pressures are exactly why he should be playin' this smart, talkin' to Frost's lawyer," Jane said with a little more passion than she intended. When she heard her own voice rise and saw her brother flinch, she sighed. "But you're right. Once he's decided, it's done."

Frankie nodded, and stood up from his place in front of the dismantled engine to sip on his own beer. "I think we just have to hope that he gets enough of a lump sum to mean somethin'," he said quietly.

They stood together for a while, not talking, not needing to. Frankie worked at the makeshift workbench against Maura's wall; Jane crossed her arms and used her thumbnail to peel at the label of her Peroni. "He's tryin'," she said, glancing at him with a sad smile.

"He is. He's the kid who just needs a little more help, is all," Frankie assured her with a hand on her shoulder. "Ma coddled him."

"Speakin' of," Jane said, "what do you wanna do about Ma?"

Frankie furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"The tax money. What should we do?"

"Nothing. Maura's right - we do judge," Frankie shrugged. When Jane glared at him, he stared back pointedly. "And clearly Ma doesn't want us to know. You shouldn't have opened up her mail."

"I wanted to help, Frankie," Jane replied, running her hand through her unruly hair. "I still wanna help."

"She doesn't want our help, clearly," he told her, turning his back and bending over to pick up the spark plug he had left on the tarp. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his worn black t-shirt. "It's been over two weeks and not a peep."

"It just makes me so sad," Jane commented, crunching some loose dirt under her harness boot.

"Me too, Janie," Frankie agreed, tapping the toe of his shoe against her own absentmindedly. "But maybe we should just count our blessings that she's got one of us to confide in."

Jane chuckled humorlessly. "Who'd've thought that we'd be the problem siblings this time around?"

Frankie broke into a wide grin. "There's a first time for everything. Speakin' of problem siblings, how's life with Cailin?"

"Pretty good," Jane said, peeking over her shoulder at the closed back door just to her left, "A couple of weeks go by and now they kick me out to have girl time on the couch."

"Well, at least that means we get to spend some time together," Frankie said, and when his sister blushed, he half-hugged her. "How does Maura feel about it all?"

"She's eating it up. It's been kind of nice for her to have more than just us around, you know? Not that we're bad, but…"

"We're not blood," Frankie finished for her, and Jane nodded.

"Yeah. Exactly. And she's never had _blood_ before. At least not blood that wasn't headed for death row," she joked, and her brother laughed.

"I mean, she wouldn't be the first of us with family in prison," Frankie said with a twinkle in his eye, handing Jane the push broom, knowing that she would help him clean his mess off the strength of making Maura happy alone.

* * *

"Ok, but one day, we really will have that glass of wine together," Cailin snarked as she took her mug of tea from Maura. She sat with her feet curled up under her on one of the armchairs next to the couch, while Maura took the corner seat closest to her.

"Maybe. But today is not that day," Maura replied. She blew on her steaming cup and pulled the throw blanket over her legs.

"But Jane and Frankie are drinking," said Cailin, smiling as she pointed toward the closed door that led to the courtyard where, in fact, the two eldest Rizzoli siblings _were_ drinking.

"That's true," Maura conceded, "but they are both legal drinking age. And they drink beer a lot together. It's one of the ways they fortify their bond."

"Wine could be a way that we fortify ours," Cailin responded, throwing up her free hand when Maura looked at her severely. "Alright, alright, I'm kidding. Tea is great. But seriously, tell me more about them. They're like twins."

Maura sipped thoughtfully. "Jane and Frankie?"

"Yes, Jane and Frankie," Cailin said, "they look, sound, and act the same. Not to mention that they have the same exact job."

"They're very close," Maura said. "They've been that way as long as I've known them, and probably since they were small. They'd kill for each other, have killed for each other, several times, actually."

Cailin slurped noisily, shocked. To her credit, she said nothing about that shock. "Intense," she noted cooly. "Do you regret not having that? Not having a close brother or sister relationship?"

"Not really," Maura said. "I've often wondered what it was like, but not until I met them did I feel like something was missing. And as soon as I felt that lack, they filled it." When she saw Cailin stare awkwardly into her tea, she revised. "I am glad that we're getting to know each other."

"Me too," Cailin brightened. "But they do make it look fun," she said.

Maura adjusted her legs under her blanket. "They make a lot of things look fun. It's sort of their… thing."

"Being appealing?" Cailin asked, smirking at the way Maura flushed at the question.

"Something like that. They're young, vibrant. Alive. Very passionate about a great many things."

"And they look nice, too," Cailin cut through the chaff. "I'm sure all the defending each other's honor keeps them in shape."

Maura laughed lightly. "I suppose it does."

Cailin laughed back, and then they fell into a comfortable silence, her countenance growing more earnest as time passed. "Is that how Jane got that thing on her stomach?"

"Yes," Maura said, guarded but willing to at least hear her out. She didn't pretend to not understand exactly what Cailin was referring to.

"I swear I wasn't looking _like that_. But she had this nasty scar that I noticed the other day," Cailin said quietly. "It looked… traumatic."

Maura stiffened. "Not _like that,_ huh?" she tried to tease, but it fell flat.

"How did it get there?" Cailin pressed.

"I was there when it happened," Maura said. She sighed loudly when she saw that Cailin was still waiting. "A few years ago, there was a hostile takeover at BPD. A dirty cop had killed his partner and was looking for evidence that would incriminate him in our crime lab. Frankie was hurt in the siege and… and while I waited with him in the morgue, that dirty cop took Jane hostage. Frankie was dying; he had massive internal bleeding. Jane knew that there was very little time before the paramedics would be too late. So, while that man held her in front of him as a human shield, she took his gun and shot him through her own body. On the front steps of headquarters."

"Jesus Christ, Maura," Cailin breathed, "that's, that's… you were there? You watched it happen?"

Maura hadn't realized that talking about it would make her as emotional as it did. "They… liberated us, for lack of a better term, just as it was happening. I made it upstairs as quickly as I could, but she was already on the ground when I got there." She didn't cry, but the image of Jane, flat on her back and eyes in a death flutter, still hollowed her out inside. She hadn't been allowed in the back of the ambulance that took her to Mass General. "I didn't see the shot go off."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Cailin said. "I thought it was going to be, I dunno. I thought it was going to be a badass story."

Maura shrugged, some of the darkness inside of her dissipating when she heard Jane and Frankie's voices from outside. "It still kind of is. But only because she lived."

"You told me the other day that she would do anything for her brothers."

"And I meant it."

"So… what do you think she's going to do for Mrs. Rizzoli?" asked Cailin. She peeked over Maura's head to the door to make sure the Rizzoli siblings weren't on their way inside.

"I don't know," Maura answered honestly. "But as much as she would do for Frankie or Tommy, she would do even more for her mother. So I'm sure she'll figure it out."

"I don't know if I would take a bullet for my mom," Cailin said, wrapping her fingers around her tea for the comfort. "Would you?"

"For Constance? I don't know, but when she got hit by a car last year, I would have given anything to have taken her place."

"Parents are complicated," Cailin replied, and Maura could see something like sadness brewing beneath the statement.

She decided just to nod in agreement.

"Am I allowed back in yet?" Jane saved her from having to talk about Hope with Cailin, who, while she could probably commiserate, had spent an entire life with Hope. As her daughter. Something that she and Maura did not have in common. Maura knew herself, too. She knew herself well enough to know that there was a chance she'd say something to mess it up, to hurt Cailin.

"You were never not allowed," Maura called behind her shoulder, eyes locking on Jane when she walked her three empty bottles to the recycling bin tucked away in the island. "Where's Frankie?"

Jane smiled when she noticed she was being watched. Then she made her way over to Maura, sitting down right next to her on the couch. "He's putting up a few things and then he'll be in. Apparently he and this one have a date," she said, pointing at Cailin.

Maura nearly fell out of her seat; Cailin sat up straighter. "Mario Kart isn't a _date_ , Jane. It's war. And I'm going to cream him if he's been drinking," she said.

"I'd say that your sister let you set up video games in here is a win for both of you," Jane snarked.

Maura only squeezed her thigh lightly, unable to deny that such a concession was extremely out of her character. "I'll admit I was feeling charitable in the moment. And your brother can be quite convincing when he wants something."

"How do you think we got the basketball hoop installed at the old house? Or the trampoline? It wasn't because I asked," Jane said sorely.

"That trampoline was the best," Frankie's unabashed Bostonian echoed into the warm living area, just as he closed the door behind him. "And you know it's because you don't know how to sweet talk, Janie. You never learned that you catch more flies with honey."

"I don't know if that's true," Maura said as she sipped noisily. "She got me here."

"Thank you," Jane said to her with her hands out and her head bowed.

"I don't think that was sweet _talkin'_ ," Frankie said with a wicked smirk, and then he winked at Cailin.

Jane glowered at him. "Do. Not."

He couldn't help it. How could he _not_ tease Jane, given the chance? "Cailin - you've been here like a year now. You ever heard of the Boston Kama Sutra?"

"Frankie!" Jane and Maura, mortified, shouted at once. He only cackled.

"Is he pestering you?" Angela Rizzoli, still in a nice overcoat, made her way into the living room from the courtyard just as Jane was about to escalate to fisticuffs.

"He was bein' inappropriate in front of the child," Jane said petulantly.

"I'm 19!" Cailin retorted.

Frankie gasped in faux hurt. "I was just explaining the story of how Jane and Maura got together!"

Angela chuckled as she took the third seat on the couch, between Jane in the middle and Frankie on the other armchair. "Ok, maybe that's not the most family-friendly story to share, honey," she said to him, patting his arm. He laughed quietly, too, giving the game up to revel in the first moment of mirth he had shared with his mother in the past week or so.

"Ok, now I _have_ to know," said Cailin.

"Another time," Maura told her.

"When you're older," Jane teased, and Cailin groaned.

Despite all the light ribbing and general good cheer, Angela soon turned quiet. "Listen, kids," she said, leaning back so that they could all see her. When Cailin turned, too, she revised. "Jane, Frankie. Maura," she started, "I need to ask you somethin'."

"Yeah, Ma," said Jane, turning towards her. Frankie scooted forward, too.

"Did either of you… did you three..." she said, struggling with the right words.

"What is it?" Frankie asked, brow bunched forward in concern.

"Are you alright, Angela? Are you feeling alright?" Maura chimed in, hoping medical assistance wouldn't be needed.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Great, actually. You three didn't do anything stupid, did you? Something stupid and chivalrous that I'm going to have to owe you for?" Angela asked.

"What are you talkin' about?" Jane replied. "What's goin' on, Ma?"

"Yeah, I'm confused," Frankie said. "I haven't done anything different."

"Me either," Jane said, "but you'd tell us if you were in trouble, right?"

Satisfied enough with their answers and their ignorance, Angela ended her cryptic interrogation. "Yes, I would. Something strange happened to me today, but I'll figure it out, ok? I just wanted to make sure you kids weren't involved. Well, I wanted to ask you before Tommy got here."

"Tommy's coming?" asked Maura.

"Yeah, he called. Said he had somethin' to tell us," Angela shrugged. "I think it might have to do with his lawsuit."

Maura got up to make more tea, and Jane bit her cheek to stay quiet. Frankie did much of the same.

"I hope it's good news," Cailin piped up from her perch, anxious to dispel the mood in the room. "But I've got a lab to study for, so I'm going to leave you all to it. Good night!" She rose, took her mug to the sink, and the rest of the people in the room all said their goodbyes distractedly.

They all jumped a little when the doorbell rang, just moments after she retired to her room. Jane hopped up, desperate to unleash her nervous energy, and opened up the door. Tommy stood there, opening up his arms wide when she saw her. "Yo, sister!" he shouted, gathering her up in a hug so strong she left the ground.

"Ouch, Tommy!" Jane yelped, spine cracking from top to bottom, "what's with you?"

He put her down and then winked at her. "Hey listen, help me out. I brought dinner from Sorellina's," he said, throwing his head in the direction of Maura's front stoop. Jane scrutinized him, walking slowly toward the takeout boxes outside, wary of a trap or a prank.

Frankie looked at him like he'd grown a second head, possibly a third. "That's a five-star restaurant, Tommy. What are you up to?"

"I just wanted to do somethin' nice for everybody," Tommy said indignantly, but there was a twinkle in his eye. He and Jane hauled the heavy bags to the kitchen island, and then he produced another bag with a bottle of wine. A very _fancy_ bottle of wine. "I don't drink, but I was told by the guy at the store that this goes perfect with red sauce."

Maura held it up, inspected it, impressed. "It does. It's also quite expensive."

Angela stood up and walked over to them. "Look honey, maybe it's best that you don't spend your money like this."

Tommy smiled so wide his eyes crinkled. "I'm celebratin'. My case against the Storrow Center settled! I got three hundred thousand bucks," he announced.

"Oh, Tommy!" she exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "I'm so happy for you."

"I just got paid today," he explained, "I didn't want to tell anyone when I found out last week. I wanted to wait until it was real, you know? But I want you to stop worryin', ok, Ma? About me. And now you can also stop worryin' about, you know, your financial issues."

Angela's face dropped, her mouth open and her eyes already wet with tears. "Tommy, you didn't."

He just raised his eyebrows and smirked. He popped open the container with the most expensive spaghetti and meatballs he'd ever purchased and rummaged in the bag for a fork, until Jane socked his arm. "Ow!"

"Didn't what, huh? You paid off the debt?" She yelled.

Frankie practically skipped over to him. "You paid off the IRS?"

Maura was just as taken aback. "Twenty-seven thousand dollars?"

"How did you three know?!" Angela turned to the rest of her children accusingly.

Jane faltered. "Uh, well, we…" she started, eyes on Maura, who threatened her with a glare, "No. _I._ I was, uh, shit. It was-"

Tommy couldn't watch his big sister drown anymore. He smirked. "I told 'em. Look, you shouldn't have to do everything on your own. They wanted to help, just like me."

This assuaged Angela. She grabbed him by his neck and kissed his cheek loudly. "Oh, Tommy. Thank you. Listen, I'm gonna pay you every penny, son. I promise. With interest."

"Ma, look. I owe you plenty. No payback required," he said as he hugged her back. When she released him, thanking him quietly, he took off his jacket, ready to eat for real.

It wasn't to be. "I'm proud of you, Tommy," Jane said to him, squeezing his arm so that he faced her. "You're the man Pop never was."

He blushed. "You don't have to get all mushy on me, Jane."

"Well I can if I want to," she said, wrapping both arms around him tight, pressing him into her with conviction. "Oh I love you so much," she said happily as she kissed the side of his head, "I love you. And listen, you are not allowed to do this on your own, a'right?"

"Yeah. Janie and I are gonna split this with you," Frankie said, moving in for a hug of his own. It was stiffer than Jane's, with a few more back claps, but just as warm.

"Thanks, bro," Tommy said, lapping up the attention. "Well, since we're all huggin' here, can I hug Maura, too?"

Maura laughed and came from behind Jane to open her arms to him. "You bet," she said, and he latched onto her.

Jane immediately glowered. "Hands where I can see 'em," she said evenly.

"What?" Tommy, said, laughing, unable to help the teasing in his voice. When he let Maura go, he put his hands on his hips and looked at his family with pride, with accomplishment. "Alright. Who wants to eat? I got enough for Cailin, too, if she's still around."


	34. Chapter 34

"Now?" Jane called toward the open back door of her home, careful not to peek outside, but impatient to do so.

"No!" Frankie shouted back. Jane couldn't see him, but she could hear him, and he was close, maybe just a few feet away from the door itself, and that made her impulsivity worse.

The only thing that kept her from bouncing out into the courtyard and ruining the surprise was her bone-deep exhaustion. "I'm so tired, my taste buds are asleep," she said around the chalky mound of… whatever she'd just taken a bite out of. She showed it to Maura as she walked back over to where the other woman stood in the kitchen. "What are we eating?"

"A gluten-free almond cookie," Maura struggled to reply around the dry flour and powdered sugar sucking the moisture out of her mouth. Her flowy white blouse, with bars of primary color stacked throughout, swished more freely than her words as she watched Jane push up behind her.

"Ah," said Jane faux-seriously, "so, it's supposed to taste like cardboard."

Maura laughed tiredly. "It doesn't taste _quite_ like cardboard."

Jane shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth and then stamped her foot, her patience all spent up. "C'mon Frankie! Maura and I put in an 18-hour day! I wanna go to bed," she whined loudly in the direction of the courtyard.

"Hold on!" Frankie called back, just as annoyed.

"Oh, let him impress you," Maura soothed, putting her right hand on Jane's disgruntled face, stroking her cheek under her thumb. "You've sprouted substantially more gray hair this past week," she said, kissing the offending roots at Jane's temple affectionately. "Maybe it's because you never learned how to wait."

"I think it's because I haven't had time to go to the salon," Jane deadpanned, still grumbling despite the touch being leveled her way. "That's the real me. Sure you still wanna get married, now that you know I look like this?"

Maura scoffed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get out of marrying me," she said with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe," said Jane in a ridiculous stage whisper. When she was smacked, she righted the ship. "Never," she said more seriously, under a chortle.

"Ok, she's ready!" Frankie yelled, and Jane did a little dance.

She and Maura made their way outside, into the soft yellow light of the lamps just above the doors and the edison bulbs that Maura had hung around her seating area just behind the open gate. "Whoa!" Jane exclaimed in true surprise when she saw the restored, all-black, vintage Indian motorcycle.

"Ta-da!" said Frankie, smile broad and true. "Huh?" he asked, raising his brows in satisfaction.

"What?!" Jane said, clearly at a very excited loss for words.

"Right?" He said, and Maura patted his back to congratulate him on his bike, and on successfully shutting Jane up.

"That looks amaz-" Jane began, but then stopped. Her eyes fell to that open gate, where her youngest brother approached them, accompanied by none other than their father. She stiffened, became tall and rigid, and Maura felt it. "Pop," Jane said harshly, barely containing her emotion.

Frankie had no such restraint. "Why are you here?" He spat as soon as he saw Frank.

"I need a reason to see my family?" Frank asked, attempting confidence, but portraying insecurity in his shaking voice and nervous fidget.

"We haven't heard from you in a year," Jane said, stepping forward, shoulder cocked forward in front of Maura, who stood by quietly.

"I'm sorry," said Frank, holding up his hands while his two eldest rapidly escalated.

"We're gonna need more than that," Frankie growled, tightening his grip on the push broom in his hands.

Tommy sensed the heightened feelings and stepped closer, ending up between his brother and his father. "Come on, guys. Give him a break. He just wants to see the baby."

Jane snarled. "Really? Well, I don't see the baby, do you, Frankie?"

Frank Sr. sighed. In a way, he had expected this response. "I know I should have called," he said, and Jane snorted at the obviousness of the statement, "but uh, I wanted to surprise you kids."

That incensed her. "Great! We love your surprises. Surprise! I'm leavin' ya mother. Surprise! I _slept_ with Tommy's girlfriend," she shouted, an amalgam of acid and pain.

Frankie latched on. "Surprise! I left all you guys holdin' the bag when I stiffed the IRS to the tune of twenty-seven thousand bucks!"

"A'right, a'right," Frank said, and Maura thought it sounded like a strange, inadequate imitation of Jane, rather than the other way around. She was shocked when he glared at her. Her specifically. "Could we not do this in front of people?" he asked, waving his hand in her direction.

She swallowed audibly, not to stifle her own anger, but because she knew she wouldn't be able to stifle Jane's. As if on cue, Jane roared. "People? Peop- that's _Maura_ ," she yelled, and stepped into her father's space, pressing her index finger into his chest. "And if you think you're gonna come into her house and disrespect her like-"

"I'll go make some tea," said Maura, a little more loudly than she usually would have if she weren't trying to prevent Jane from assaulting someone. Assaulting her own _father_. "Excuse me, please."

Frank shook his head as if to clear the air of what he had just done. "I'm actually here to speak to your mother," he said, the truest thing he'd told them since he arrived.

And as if drawn to them by Frank's admission, Angela and Cavanaugh appeared in the gateway, just back from dinner. "About what?" she asked, stopping to look Frank Sr. in the eye.

Frank saw Cavanaugh and clenched his teeth. "I'll talk to you when you're not with him."

"Then you won't be talking," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant stance.

Cavanaugh rubbed his hand over her back affectionately two or three times, and then turned to Frank in as friendly as a gesture as he could. "How're you doin', Frank?"

Frank spat at the cordiality. "Better before I saw you. And what are you doin' with my wife?"

"Ex-wife, Frank," Angela said, stepping between the two men. "And unless you're here to explain why you left me holding the bag with the IRS, I want you to leave."

Jane put her finger down and squeezed a tight fist. "A'right, Pop, why, uh… why don't you just leave, ok? Wait til we all got cooler heads. Where're you stayin' at?"

Frank blinked a few times, and then seemed to think better of whatever he was about to do. "I'm stayin' at the, uh, the Lighthouse Motel. Over on 14th."

Jane nodded. "Ok, so, we'll talk tomorrow."

"We? Speak for yaself," Frankie said, and then he was walking toward the guesthouse.

"Good night, Frank," Cavanaugh said, deciding he shouldn't leave Frankie alone.

Angela sealed the deal. "Kids, come inside for a cup of tea."

Tommy followed her. "I'll see ya later, Pop," he said sadly, but then disappeared into the guesthouse all the same.

"Yeah," Frank said to him quietly, even after he had left. There was clear dejection in his tone.

Jane was the only one who remained, unwilling to cede ground to him, to cede the ground of her home to him. Her phone buzzed against her hip, and she viewed the text. Dispatch. "Me and Maura gotta go to work, ok?" she said to him, hinting strongly for him to leave.

He stood still. "You… you work too hard, Janie," he said, but instead of chastising, it just sounded like a plea.

It hit her heart. "Can you just go to the motel, please?" she demanded, feeling emotion she refused to show him, and only when he finally walked away to his rental car did she turn to go back inside the house.

* * *

Inside, Maura was wordlessly adjusting the shoulder pads of her gray blazer, no tea in sight. Jane reached for her own jacket and tossed it on, pulling out her hair roughly. "He's gone," she told Maura.

Maura turned to her and frowned. "Are you alright?"

Jane grimaced. "No. I'm sorry you… I'm sorry he said that about you. You're not just people to us. You gotta know that."

"Jane, of course I know that. Your father hasn't been present for any of our relationship. How could he know?" Maura reasoned, handing Jane the keys to the Prius.

Jane glowered, her upper lip curling to expose her right incisor and her eyebrows coming down in a compressed line. "He knew. He knows how much you mean to us, and he still said it. Because he's got these hang ups about blood bein' thicker than water."

Maura accepted that answer in silence, choosing not to bring up that Jane had said the exact same thing about her when they fought over Paddy's shooting. She needed only to see how Jane had reacted to her father's statement outside to know that Jane had changed. "It's hard to evolve from the mindset you were raised in," she said instead. Jane pushed her lower back with a gentle pressure as they exited the front door.

"Yeah well, he still hasn't apologized for takin' off to Florida and hookin' up with a bunch of bimbos," Jane said icily as she opened Maura's car door for her.

Maura waited until Jane was in the driver's seat and buckled in to reply. "Apologizing is a major threat to identity and self-esteem for someone who struggles to manage strong emotions."

"I guess the Rizzoli apple doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?" said Jane, looking not at Maura but only at the road as they drove to a nightclub downtown, where their latest body was located.

Maura didn't disagree, but she did qualify. "Maybe not. But you really have gotten much better at apologizing since our last… major spat."

"That was world war three, Maura," said Jane. She shivered at the memory of how they had hurt each other. "I never wanna go through that again."

"Talk to me and we won't," Maura offered simply. "You weren't the only one to blame for how out of control that situation got."

"I know," Jane said. "Let's stop talkin' about it before I end up even sadder," she groaned, and then parked the car at The Argot, a jazzy little club with lots of singer-songwriter nights during the week.

"Alright," Maura replied. "Now, let's process this scene so that we can go to bed. I'll do the autopsy in the morning."

"Even if we got an open and shut?" Jane asked, but Maura heard the tiredness, the hopefulness in her voice.

"Sleep deprivation is as much of an impairment as inebriation. And I do not like to make mistakes - it's past midnight," said Maura.

"A'right, I get. Make it quick is what you're sayin'," Jane said, exiting the car and helping Maura do the same.

"No, make it thorough, yet efficient. You know how to do that," Maura revised, and then they met Korsak and Frost inside the building.

* * *

"An hour has got to be a record," Jane said as she waited for Maura to take her hand, the two of them now safely parked back on their Beacon Hill street.

Maura chuckled softly. "Maybe so. But I'm exhausted. I really needed to get in and get out so I could get some sleep."

"Yeah. I might even crash with my clothes on," said Jane, looking slyly at Maura from the corner of her eye.

The reaction didn't disappoint. "You most certainly will not. Not if you want to sleep in my bed," Maura warned.

They turned the corner into the guarded courtyard leading to the main house, where Frank Sr. sat, nursing a bottle of Crown Royal in a paper bag on Maura's wrought iron bench. Jane stopped them, handing squeezing tighter in Maura's, interlaced fingers providing almost uncomfortable pressure. "What're you doin' here, Pop?"

"I need to speak to you, Janie. Alone," he said, not with malice, but with conviction.

Jane believed him. After a few seconds of indecision, she nodded to him once. "Go inside, ok?" she said to Maura, "I'll uh, be in in a minute."

Maura did not want to leave her alone, with her father, afraid of what might pass between them. But, she also knew that whatever was going to be said wasn't for her ears. And, whatever it was, Jane would tell her soon enough anyway. So, she let it go. She put her hand on Jane's abdomen, flat and firm, and kissed her on the mouth. Jane didn't recoil, but rather leaned into it, deepened it, for one or two seconds more before Maura broke them apart softly and entered the house, alone.

Jane crossed her arms and watched her breath swirl out into the cold air. "You started drinkin' again?"

Frank smiled ruefully to himself. "Yeah. I needed my old friend," he said with another swig.

Jane took the bottle from him as soon as he was done, and put the cap back on, sitting down next to him. "What is it? The back taxes thing, what?"

"I got cancer," Frank gulped, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jane froze. Her eyes got wide, her palms sweated, her dinner lurched into the back of her throat. "When… when did you find out?" she asked quietly, her voice hoarse and dark like his.

"A few weeks ago," he said. "Prostate."

"How bad?"

"They don't know yet. They sent me here for a second opinion at Mass General," he said sadly.

"I'm sorry, Pop," Jane said impulsively, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yeah. I don't know if I'll be able to… you know… after any kind of surgery, and the doctors-" he struggled, and his struggle ignited her.

"God, please stop. Do you have any idea what you did to us? What you did to Ma?" she interrogated, right back to the anger that had carried her for so long. That he would worry about sex, about what got them all into this fucked up mess in the first place, at a time like this, and to her… she bristled.

"I- look. It's hard for me to open up," was all that he said.

"Me, too. But try. You put ya family through hell. And, I, for one, would like to know why. You were a good dad. We were a good family. We had good times, right?" Jane pushed.

"Yes, we did," Frank conceded with a smile.

"So why? Why would you sleep with Lydia? Why would you do that to Ma, then just take off like that?"

"Look, I loved your mother for a long time. And when you kids were home and the business was good, we were happy. But then you guys grew up and left. Business went bad, and it was just me and her. I was just so unhappy, Jane," he explained.

"So you're only back because you need us," Jane said, hurting him because his excuse hurt her.

He sighed. "I was hopin' that you need me, too. Look… Jane, would you tell your mother about the cancer? I need her, too. I need her support, and I know if it comes from you, she won't turn me down."

Jane balked. "Pop, I can't. I'll be here for you, ok? But, you gotta ask her for forgiveness before you can ask for her help."

Frank shrugged, accepting that answer. At least he tried. "I'll give her a call, then," he said with finality. He stood up and pulled out his flip phone. "I'll call a cab, too. Thanks for at least hearing me out, sweetheart."

Jane stood, too, and wiped her hands on the tops of her thighs. "Y-yeah. Anytime. Call me, ok? Let me know what's goin' on. But I gotta get to bed; me and Maura got a packed day tomorrow."

"You and Maura, huh? How long has that been a thing?" He asked.

"Uh, long time, I guess. Whether I realized it or not," she said shakily. He had been the one person in her life that she wasn't sure would accept her relationship with Maura. But, she found herself caring less and less each month that passed without hearing from him, each time she found out about a new slight against her mother that he had perpetrated.

"You know, I always figured Joey'd come back and you'd settle down with him," Frank said, and then she knew exactly what he thought. She heard what he felt about it when she heard the disappointment hiding behind the nonchalance of his statement. "Things change."

"Yeah, they do," she said tersely. "Joey picked DC and Maura picked me. Do the math, Pop."

He was silent for long seconds before finally spurred to action, and she didn't deliver him from the awkwardness of it. "Alright, honey. I'll see you around. I'll be in town this week for a few appointments."

"A'right. Good night," she said. She watched him walk away for the second time that night, considerably more weighed down than the first.

* * *

She must have been out there longer than she'd realized, because Maura was in black silk pajamas, with long sleeves and long pants, fixing up that belated tea on the stove. Her hair was up and her makeup was gone and Jane whimpered a little bit at the sight, wanting nothing more than to crawl into Maura's lap and stay there.

Maura noticed. "Oh Jane," she whispered, going over to her at the door and hugging her softly. Jane deflated instantly, feeling herself go slack and heavy against Maura's frame, begging to be held up, and of course Maura obliged, arms tight around her back. "Can I get you some tea?"

Jane struggled back to her feet, her full height, and shook her head while she sniffled. "Agh," she cleared her throat, gathered herself, "no thanks."

Maura nodded slowly and walked back over to her kettle. "What happened?"

"He's got cancer. Prostate cancer," Jane said simply, chewing on her thumb, eyes to the floor.

"Oh my god," Maura dropped the kettle back onto the burner with a clang, harder than she meant to. "I'm so sorry, my love."

"He said they sent him here to get more tests done," Jane explained, heaving her body into one of the island's stools. Then she groaned. "Why did he tell me? Why do I always have to be the oldest?"

Maura slipped into her MD, a thing she did so well in times of strife. "Prostate cancer is one of the most survivable cancers if it doesn't spread. Do you know what stage it's in?"

"No, he didn't know. I had to stop him when he started worrying about his _manhood,_ " Jane said, making a gagging motion.

"Well, the good news is that forty to sixty percent of men who are able to have erections before surgery are able to after," Maura said clinically.

Jane gagged again. "Please, spare me that good news. I'm glad I don't have to worry about any of that shit anymore."

Maura smiled in spite of herself. "No, you don't."

"Are there any visible symptoms for prostate cancer? You know, like a prostate limp or somethin'?" Jane asked, deep in thought.

"No, Jane. Why?" Maura was confused.

"I just… I'm not really sure I believe him."

"Why would he lie?"

"I don't know, to get sympathy maybe? Like if he's sick, maybe it erases some of the fucked up shit he did?"

As Jane spoke, Angela entered the main house for the first time that night, also in her pajamas. "I saw your father, loitering out there, waiting for you. The only reason I didn't go out there is because Sean would have torn him to shreds."

Jane looked at her mother sadly. "Yeah well, the Lieutenant's gonna have to get in line."

Angela saw the tears her daughter wasn't crying and felt some of her own spring up. "That's why he came back - he's sick, isn't he?" Jane nodded, biting her lower lip to stop the crying. A few tears slipped out anyway. "And he wanted you to tell me, didn't he?"

Jane stood so that she could face Angela properly. "Ma, he… he told me because he's afraid to tell you."

"He should be," Angela scoffed. "What does he have?"

Jane crossed her arms over herself and her voice wavered heavily. "He has cancer. Prostate cancer."

"I see," Angela said, rocked by the news but standing firm in her spot. "Ok. Ok. I'll deal with him. And I'll tell your brothers. You go upstairs and you get some sleep, alright?"

Jane sobbed once, twice. "I'm sorry to dump this on you, Ma," she said sadly, and Angela grabbed her face, thumbs swiping away at errant tears.

"You didn't, baby. You didn't. He did," Angela assured her, and then pulled her into a hug.

Jane nodded vigorously, untrusting of how she would sound if she tried to speak again.

* * *

When Maura finished her cup of sleepytime tea and finally made it upstairs, she had expected to see Jane passed out on the covers. Instead, she sat on the side of the bed in some boxer briefs and her sports bra from the day, bare feet playing with the carpet below. Her spine was curled, the perfect manifestation of her jumbled thoughts, and each hand kneaded at the opposite one's scar. "I thought you'd be asleep by now," Maura said quietly, taking a seat next to her, putting a finger on her knee and swirling light patterns there.

Jane pulled her lips back in an attempted smile. It fell short. "Please tell me you're not sleepin' in those," she said.

Maura looked down. "No, I'm not. Why?"

"I don't think, after all the shit that's happened today, I could handle it if you also told me you decided to stop sleeping naked again," Jane teased.

Maura felt assuaged by the humor. A little - at least Jane was feeling somewhat herself. "Well," she started, undoing the buttons of her top slowly, thoughtfully, "the benefits far outweigh any negatives. So you're safe, at least for the short term."

Jane exhaled theatrically. "Thank god," she said, all New England vowels.

Maura stood, removed the rest of her clothing, and turned off the dim light of her bedside lamp before climbing under the covers. She let Jane sit unfettered for a few moments, and then called out for her. "Jane? Come lay down with me."

Jane heeded the call desperately. She pushed herself under the covers and then dropped her face to the space between Maura's breasts, inhaling as much of the body wash and sweet perfume that she could.

Maura held her close, and ran methodical fingers through her wavy black hair. "You don't have to do this alone," she said after a few more beats of silence, "you have me."

Jane snuggled closer. "I know," she breathed out against Maura's sternum, the cocoon of blankets and skin drawing her closer to sleep by the second. "I know you have my back."

"I have all of you. If you need me to step back, I can. But if you need to fall apart, need me to pick up the pieces, I can do that too. I can make calls; I can schedule appointments, I can get him the best oncologists in Boston. Just say the word and I'll do it."

Then, for the first time that night and the first time since their relationship began, Jane broke down. Maura's words dismantled the wall she'd built up to keep her father out and keep her despair in, so that she could be strong for the rest of her family. Her sobs shook her so hard she felt as though she were flying apart, and she clawed at Maura's back to keep herself moored. Her cheeks grew so tight they hurt, and her nose grew so congested that each breath through her mouth rattled on its way down. She let herself do it, let herself unload all of it in the quiet of their bedroom, in the soundproof haven of Maura's arms.

And Maura just held her. She didn't speak; she just continued to breathe, even and calm, and waited for Jane to come back.

Eventually, Jane did, and she came back changed. "I need you," she said lowly, resolutely.

Maura had never heard something so intoxicating and so anti-Jane. "Alright," she said, kissing Jane's forehead, careful not to look too long at all the evidence of Jane's vulnerability, her wet face and red eyes. "What do you need me to do?"

"No," Jane shook her head slowly. "No, I just need you. However I can get you." She said it and it sounded like scales coming off of her eyes. It sounded new and revelatory.

"Well, you have me all the ways a person can, Jane," Maura affirmed for her. She inhaled sharply when she felt Jane's palm rubbing its way from her side, to her hip, to her ass and then back again.

"Hmm," Jane hummed, and the vibration tickled the damp skin of Maura's chest. "Go into work without me tomorrow morning. I got a couple errands to run first."


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, folks, here we are - the end of Boston Kama Sutra. Thank you all for reading and reviewing this little story about family that masqueraded as a story about sex. It was such fun to write! I thought this arc with the final time we see Frank Sr. would be a fitting finish to a fic about fathers and their legacies: Jane and Maura are very much products of the actions of their dads, and I wanted to explore how that would affect the way they might pursue a romantic relationship. I hope you enjoy this last chapter. It's been a pleasure.

When Jane strolled into BPD headquarters almost a couple hours after her usual start time of eight AM, she saw her mother and her two brothers huddled around a table in the Division One Cafe. She had just gotten Angela’s text on the way in, about having told Tommy and Frankie about their father - and from the looks of it, they all needed moral support. “Hey,” she said, straightening her blazer over shoulders and walking over to them.

“Hi,” Frankie said sadly.

Tommy was much more distraught. “It’s gonna be ok, right, Jane?” he asked. He sounded small.

Jane shook her head and crossed her arms. “I-I don’t know, Tommy. Let’s get all the information first, a’right?”

“Yeah. We can’t control the cancer, so let’s just help Ma,” Frankie said. He put one hand on his mother’s shoulder and one hand on his brother’s. 

“Right. If she wants to be there for him, whether he deserves it or not, then we’ll be there for her,” Jane agreed. 

Not two minutes behind her, however, was the man in question. Frank Sr. came into the cafe with a measured and careful stride. 

“What are you doin’ here?” Frankie asked him, all his anger bubbling up to the surface.

Angela squeezed his wrist firmly, with finality. “I’m taking your father to his oncology appointment.”

“Your mother’s been a godsend,” Frank said. He straightened his jacket, smoothing it down his sides.

“Oh, it’s too bad you just figured that out,” Frankie countered.

Tommy smacked him in the stomach from his seated position in the stool he occupied. “You’re wreckin’ him; will ya stop?” he whispered harshly.

“Would  _ you _ stop, Tommy?” Jane argued, staring him down, until their father interrupted again.

“Listen, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. All I’m askin’ for is one last family dinner before it’s too late. Please,” Frank asked of them with a slight bow of his head.

Angela took pity. “Ok, fine. We’ll do it at Maura and Jane’s tonight, ok?”

“Ma, you can’t ask Maura to do that,” Frankie chimed in.

Frank offered another option. “Let’s do it at Mario’s. You know, just us family.”

Jane stepped forward, but was shoved back by her mother, forcefully enough to make a statement:  _ let me handle this. _ “Family?” Angela said, “Maura is family. She took me in when I had no place to live after you left me. She takes care of  _ our _ daughter every night when she gets home from this nightmare of a job. You want our support? Well, it has to be done my way, with my family.”

Frank put his hands up. “Ok.”

“Alright. Let’s go to the doctor,” she said, undoing her apron so she could drive them.

Jane’s phone chimed with what was no doubt a message from one of her partners about their current case. “Call me when you’re done, ok?” she said.

Frank frowned at her. “I was wondering if you kids want to come to the doctor with me.”

Tommy jumped up from his seat. “Yeah, Pop. Yeah.”

“Frankie and I gotta get back to work, Pop. Sorry,” Jane said, though the apology didn’t hold water. She glared and she thought about Maura. About how little he thought of her when Jane thought the whole world of her, thought the world didn’t deserve her.

“Back to work. Ok, sure. C’mon, Tommy,” Frank Sr. said, tossing one last glance back to his two eldest, who watched him leave.

“We should go with them,” Frankie said quietly. He ran his hand over his perfectly gelled hair. 

Jane continued to watch her family leave the building. “Yeah, we should.”

* * *

Late morning passed into late afternoon when Jane was finally able to make it to the basement to see Maura for the first time that day. She stopped in the doorway when she saw her collecting files for the evening, reorganizing them in the order they needed to be analyzed and processed for the next day.

A banal activity on its face, for sure. But Maura wore a navy dress that looked like it had been painted on, and all of a sudden file sorting was the most titillating thing Jane could think of. The half sleeves provided a mockery of modesty, existed as a caricature of demure professionalism, because the way the dress accentuated  _ everything  _ else talked only to Jane about sex. “I came here to ask you somethin’ work related, but it all just went out of my head,” she husked, her voice impossibly raspy.

Maura smiled distractedly as she finished her task. “Would it happen to be about-”

“Cleavage?” Jane supplied, rather unhelpfully.

Maura looked down at herself, realizing for the first time what had Jane so flummoxed.  _ Ah.  _ “No. About Delroy King. There was no trace evidence on his array of buckets.”

Jane shook her head and screwed her eyes shut. “Yeah no. Dead end. His alibi checks out. He was with his old lady and the neighbors saw him come home. He’ll be back performing on the street tomorrow.”

“Old lady, huh?” Maura chuckled, packing a few things in her purse. 

Jane bit her lower lip at the view, raked her teeth over it until it popped from under them, appreciating the curvature of Maura’s spine and its contradiction to the swell of her behind, all contained within tight fabric. “Yeah. Wife,” she clarified. She stuck her hand in her blazer pocket almost reflexively.

“Mmm,” Maura acknowledged her by winking. “Well, he’s clean. And the crinkled paper you found in the victim’s guitar case had cacao bean extract on it.”

Jane slumped to the couch, crashing back to reality. No leads, no justice - the only thing that could pull her from naughty thoughts to the sobriety of hopelessness. “Where was she before she was at the bar, and what the hell was in her guitar case that it had traces of chocolate, and marshmallow root?”

“That is for you to find out,” Maura said, as she often did. She took a seat in the chair next to Jane. 

“What if this is some random killing that we can’t solve?” Jane asked glumly. She rested her elbows on her thighs and wished that her moods would stabilize just a little bit. 

“Don’t say that,” Maura scolded her softly.

“Well, I mean there are a lot of homicide departments that have piles of unsolved cases like this one,” Jane said with a dismissive shrug.

Maura put her hand on Jane’s wrist. “But ours doesn’t, because it has you. So why are you talking like this?”

In light of the previous night’s events, Jane didn’t even consider lying. “My father’s PSA numbers came back. Ma said they’re through the roof.” 

“It’s not a very reliable test,” said Maura. “Numbers can rise with a routine prostate examination, or even digital stimulation during sexual experimentation.”

“Maura, stop. The  _ only  _ sexual experimentation I wanna think about is between you and me. With that thing on,” Jane huffed, rubbing her hands over her eyes before looking directly at the plunging neckline of Maura’s dress.

Maura smiled in sadness and heat. “Have they done the ultrasound yet?”

Jane shook her head. “It’s tomorrow.”

“Then are you ready to go home, have some dinner?” Maura figured a change of scenery would do them both good.

But, Jane had forgotten what her mother had promised her father. “Shit. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“What does that mean?” Maura inquired. She got up and retrieved her bag, turning just in time to see Jane’s sheepish wince.

“I’m so sorry,” Jane tried in advance.

“Sorry for what?” Maura was suspicious based on the apology alone. “What have you got to apologize for?”

“My Pop, uh, he came by today and said he wanted one more family dinner ‘before it was too late.’ Ma may or may not have volunteered your kitchen,” Jane said.

“Did she or did she not?” Maura replied, but she already knew the answer.

* * *

After they had arrived home, Frankie, Tommy, and Angela already waiting, Maura became a spectator in her own kitchen. She wrung her hands close to her hips, watching Jane and her mother spin about the stove as they stirred and removed all manner of nitrate-filled dishes. 

“Tuna casserole, vienna sausage wrapped in bacon with water chestnuts,” Angela explained to her confused face. “Jell-O mold, Boston cream pie.”

Maura bit her tongue as long as she could. “And where are the vegetables?”

“Right here, canned corn,” said Jane, holding up the can and smiling widely.

“Frank’s favorite,” said Angela, laughing despite the nerves in the room. “We’ll eat extra kale tomorrow.”

Maura smiled painfully and Jane chuckled at her. They all turned around when they heard the two brothers bickering over the silverware. “How hard is it to remember where the fork goes?” Frankie griped, still in his work suit.

“I’ll show you where the fork goes,” Tommy countered, waving a fork menacingly at Frankie.

“Boys, knock it off!” Angela slipped into old hat. “Our guests are gonna be here any minute!”

Maura looked back at Jane in distress. “Wait. ‘Guests’? Plural?”

Jane looked just as confused as she did. 

“I’ll get it!” Tommy, usually the first of them to bounce into action, trotted over to the door and opened it to reveal their father in his button-down shirt and member’s only jacket from the morning. In his hands were dyed-blue carnations and a bottle of red wine. “Hey, Pop,” Tommy said as they embraced. “How’re you doin’?”

Frank hugged him as best he could. “Good, good. How’s my boy? Alright?”

“Good, thanks,” said Tommy, moving aside so that he could close the door and Frank could walk in.

Angela took a sobering breath and met him in the dining room. “Hi, Frank,” she said, standing in front of him. He handed her the flowers and patted her arm lightly.

“Nice flowers, right, Ma?” Tommy asked her hopefully.

She didn’t have the resolve to correct him, both out of pity and because of the alcohol she could already smell on his father’s breath. “Yeah, thanks,” she said quietly to Frank as she put them on the counter.

Jane took a look at them and frowned. “Blue carnations?”

“They’re actually white. But dip them in blue dye, with capillary action, you get  _ that _ .” Maura leaned in close so that she could whisper right against Jane’s ear. “At least you never buy me dyed flowers.”

“You kiddin’ me?” Jane scoffed. “Nothin’ but all-organic from that nursery a few blocks away. I know better,” she said, making sure to look Maura right in the eye as she finished talking. 

“I know,” Maura said, kissing her lightly. “Thank you.”

Just a few feet away, Frank was also handing Angela the bottle of wine he had brought. Angela shook her head. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea tonight.”

Frank chuckled. “Well, it’s one bottle for six people,” he said to her. “It’s a’right, c’mon. It’ll be fine. You really think it’s gonna be a problem?”

Angela’s response was truncated by another knock at the door, and she went to go answer it. Lieutenant Cavanaugh stood on the other side, holding a considerably more ornate and more natural flower arrangement in his hand. He gave it to Angela and accepted a kiss from her. “Hi, honey,” she said, genuinely happy to see him. 

“Hey,” he said to her quietly, his tie from earlier in the day gone, but still in a suit jacket and slacks. 

“OK, everyone’s here - let’s sit and eat,” Angela announced to the room. The Rizzoli children got to work - Jane finished setting plates and taking out glasses for drinks, Frankie finished the silverware, Tommy helped his mother with the food, and Maura grabbed the two pitchers of water from the refrigerator to place on the table, as well as a bottle opener. 

Frank watched the orchestra as he always had, as a spectator, but this night was the first that he had felt loss. His family had continued without him as a well-oiled machine. They danced around each other in concert, no words needed, and still, a set table appeared. It soured his mood. He took the bottle opener that Maura had set down and opened up his bottle of wine, pouring himself a full glass and taking a swig. 

Maura pulled out a chair across from Frank, gingerly, but with a confident stare in greeting. She poured herself a glass as well, though not as full, and sipped it. It was not in the league of the wines she was used to, no doubt, but she showed no signs of distaste or disapproval. 

Frank, still itching for an argument, started to open his mouth to say something to her, but then Tommy and Jane made eye contact. Jane swooped in and took the chair right next to Frank, while Tommy sat in the one closest to Maura’s left on the opposite side of the table. Whatever he had meant to say died before it hit his mouth. He only glanced between Jane and Tommy and sucked on his teeth. Frankie took a seat at one end of the table, across from his mother so that he could keep an eye on her, and with Cavanaugh close to her as well, everyone had backup. Except Frank. 

Everyone served themselves, and no one really spoke. There were long minutes of silent eating and cleared throats while Frank poured himself a third glass of wine. 

“Well, uh, we certainly have an interesting case that we’re working on, don’t we, Jane?” Maura entered the arena gallantly, leveraging her home training to at least  _ begin  _ a conversation.

Jane felt her father stiffen at the mention of her work. It had been the wrong thing to say, but Jane didn’t care. She smiled softly at Maura and said, “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you tell them about it?”

“Well, it’s tragic really,” Maura began.

“I’ll say,” Frankie griped from where he sat, more to himself than anyone else.

But Maura was determined to have some propriety. “The case, actually. I mean, the victim. She was a child prodigy.”

“I was a prodigy,” Tommy chimed in, chuckling proudly to himself, “I could skate backwards when I was three.”

Angela, Jane, and Frankie laughed quietly, smiling at him, remembering the time fondly. Frank guffawed loudly. “That was me skating backwards, holding you up!” he shouted, the cadence of his laughter mocking and pedantic. It clamored in the previously quiet room.

“Oh,” Tommy said, instantly deflated. He tapped his water glass with an index finger, watching the condensation gather on his fingertip, twisting his hand to catch it before it dripped.

“You’re no prodigy,” Frank continued, “he was like an idiot savant. But that was because of the way he could play chess. Almost as good as his teacher,” he said, patting Jane on the shoulder heartily. She refused to accept the compliment. “He was useless at everything else.”

The ambience of the evening had been on a slow descent since Cavanaugh had arrived, but Frank’s last statement sent it into a death spiral. It also sent Jane into an old and quiet anger.

“Tommy did a lot of things well, Pop,” she said, a defense of her brother, but also a warning to her father. She glared at him, held his gaze, dared him to continue.

The wine in him kept him from stopping. “Ah, but Frankie here? This kid had a million dollar arm,” he turned to Frankie as he took another drink, “I thought you’d be playing for the Red Sox.”

Frankie shrugged and wiggled his bad elbow. “Yeah, me too.”

“He kept whining about his sore elbow,” Frank spat, waving his son off.

Tommy had regained some concentration just in time to hear Frank tear Frankie down. “Wanna know why? You know what Coach Tony said?”

Frankie put his hand on Tommy’s wrist. “Tommy, don’t waste your breath.”

Tommy didn’t pull away, but he glared at Frank. “No. I’m gonna say it - you made him throw so many curveballs, he blew his arm out. That’s why he needed Tommy John.”

“Nah - he was a quitter,” Frank said, his last couple of words slurring just a bit. Then he turned his aggression to Angela. “And be honest, you babied him. You knew he didn’t need that surgery.”

“His UCL was in tatters,” Jane jumped in, ready to battle, when Angela stopped her once more.

“Frank, you know what alcohol does to your tongue,” Angela said quietly, waving a finger in front of her mouth to make her point, to scold him.

He gritted his teeth. “Don’t embarrass me here.”

Tommy scoffed. “It’s ok, Pop. I’m sober,” he said. He lifted his water glass and took a hefty sip just to prove it.

Cavanaugh pitied Frank, and spoke much more softly. “I’m sober too, Frank.”

Frank wanted to stand, but then Jane’s hand was on his leg. “It’s ok, Pop,” she growled. “We all know what alcohol does to you.”

“For the record,” Cavanaugh continued, “Frankie is a great detective. And Tommy? He’s a great father.”

“Yeah, you know, on that note, I gotta go see my kid,” Tommy said. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and picked up his plate. “Thanks for dinner Ma, Maura.” He stood, placed a kiss on the top of Maura’s head and then his mother’s as he walked toward the kitchen, leaving without a goodbye to anyone else after he had rinsed and loaded his dishes.

“I’m gonna get outta here, too. Thanks for the dinner, Ma.” Frankie repeated his brother’s actions and slammed the dishwasher shut.

“Hey, I… I was just bustin’ balls!” Frank cried out when Frankie walked to the back door. He got up to go after him. “I’m just kiddin’! Where’re you goin’? I’m bustin’ balls.”

Frankie left without even looking at his father. Cavanaugh stood up next after hearing both Frank’s speech and mood degenerate - one into slurring and the other into rage. “I think I should go, too,” he said to Angela, kissing her softly.

“I’ll walk you out,” she replied, eyes on Frank, body angled in front of the lieutenant in case Frank decided to pounce.

He nearly did. “Oh, let him go! I wanna talk to my wife.”

Cavanaugh had almost made it to the back door when he heard  _ that _ . He felt his ears getting hot and he put his hand on Angela’s shoulder. “She’s not your wife no more, Frank.” It was bold, audacious, and it made Jane stand up. She watched him, her eyes pleading with him to let it go, but her boss and her father were very similar. “And you’re gonna show some respect, starting now.”

Frank saw red; he lunged forward. “C’mon, you gonna make me?” Jane’s forearm caught his chest, hard, and he looked at her for a moment, surprised to feel that much violence coming toward him from her.

“Yes!” Cavanaugh shouted, lunging right back. 

Angela desperately tried to hold him. “No, no!” she said, feeling him coiled tight against her hands on his shoulders. 

“C’mon then!” Frank goaded, and just as Cavanaugh was about to give him what he asked for, Jane shoved him so forcefully he staggered backwards, his fall caught only by the kitchen island. 

“Stop it!” she yelled, a finger in her father’s face and then pointed at Cavanaugh. “What’re you gonna do, huh? Duke it out? This is  _ my  _ house,” she said, back in Frank’s face. “And you, bringin’ your shit in here, in front of Ma, in front of  _ Maura? _ What the hell is wrong with you? C’mon, we’re goin’ to the motel.”

“Just like I thought, you’re a coward,” Cavanaugh said, slave to his pettiness, slave to the moment. 

“Oh hell no,” Frank started forward again.

“Sean, Sean please,” Angela pleaded with Cavanaugh, hands moving from his shoulders to his face to both comfort him and to block his vision of Frank.

Cavanaugh seemed to allow it. “Hurt Angela again, and it won’t be the prostate that kills you, Frank,” he said.

“Sean!” Angela begged one last time, and then he stood down.

Jane stared darkly at him the whole way from the kitchen to the back door. She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled onto her tongue, and she squeezed the bunched fabric of Frank’s shirt in her hand so tightly she thought it might tear. Maura could only watch her from the table, stuck in her chair, unsure what to do, afraid to insert herself. “Please, Daddy. Let’s just go,” said Jane, resignedly, but with venom. 

“I’m sorry,” said Frank. He straightened the front of his shirt.

This irked Jane, hearing what he should have said to her brothers, to all of them, long ago. Clearly he could only say it to her. “You know all that shit you say to Tommy and Frankie? You can’t ever take that back, Pop!” She shouted at him, snatching her keys from the sideboard in the hall and shoving him toward the front door. He stepped out, and she looked back at Maura, who had started to collect dishes from around the table. “I’m sorry, Maura,” she said, voice shaken by tears.

“No, it’s ok. Just go,” Maura said quietly and shook her head. 

After Jane had left, she set about the task of cleaning the kitchen.

* * *

Over an hour later, the doorbell rang for the third time that night. Maura went to it, surprised to see Jane on the other side, a giant bouquet of orange roses, white carnations, and peruvian lilies in hand. “Hi,” she said, “why did you ring the bell?

“Because I brought all this into your home and I’m not sure if I deserve to have key privileges right now,” Jane said simply. “The nursery was obviously closed, but Whole Foods is so bougie it’s practically the same thing.”

Maura laughed and took the flowers being offered to her. “Come in, please,” she said, smelling them. “The carnations aren’t dyed. Well done.”

“Mmm,” Jane hummed. She stood in the front hall, watching Maura review her purchase, her apology. She crossed her now empty hands, holding them in front of her pelvis.

Maura looked down at them. “I always associate flowers from you with sex.”

Jane smiled. “And I never intend ‘em that way,” she said, “but I’m always happy for the end result.”

“Let me get a vase for these,” Maura retreated to the kitchen cupboards to pull out one of her less ornate vases. She snipped the stems, added some of her own plant food from under the sink, and then arranged them neatly in the center of the island. Jane followed, putting a hand on the counter and sticking the other one in her slacks pocket. “You know, it wasn’t you who brought that debacle into  _ our  _ home. It was your father,” Maura said.

“Yeah well,” Jane replied, hanging her head, “sorry my father’s an asshole.”

“Mine isn’t exactly father of the year,” Maura replied. They shared a short, rueful chuckle at that. 

Jane grew quiet quickly, however, and tapped her fingers nervously against the granite. “I’ll never treat you like that, Maura. I’ll never treat our kids like that.”

Maura gave her a closed-lips grin and put a hand on her cheek. “I know. You’ll be a good husband,” she teased.

Jane made a displeased face. “I’m serious. What you saw tonight from my Pop? From Cavanaugh? You’ll never get that from me. I promise.”

“Because you’ve changed. You’re better than they are,” Maura said, her voice dropping unusually low as she stepped into Jane and smoothed her palms over the top of her chest. “Even when you couldn’t apologize to me, when the only way you could talk to me was when you were in bed with me, you were better.”

Jane dropped her forehead to Maura’s and put her hands on that dress for the first time. “Is this thing new?” she whined, rubbing up and down Maura’s hips, until she couldn’t take the suspense. She dropped her gun hand back to her own side and then slid her right one around to cup Maura’s ass. It felt as good as it looked poured inside the fabric. Jane bit her lower lip as she cocked her left shoulder back and pulled up.

Maura lurched at the pressure and leaned fully into it, nipping at Jane’s mouth as she was lifted. There was something hard pressing into her belly from Jane’s blazer pocket, and she closed her eyes at the pleasurable sensation. “I bought it months ago. But this is the first time I’ve worn it,” she said of the dress.

“Well, it’s a problem,” Jane groaned, both hands back to wandering.

Maura sighed when she felt teeth on her neck. “You want this because you’re feeling very strong, very negative emotions. And you’re Italian.”

Jane breathed against her jugular. “Let me anyway,” she asked.

“I would never say no,” Maura responded immediately. The first time their lips met, it was soft. Jane was reverent with the way she slid her hands up from Maura’s hips to cup her face. Their eyes slipped shut, and they found their way to one another by memory. The second time they kissed, it was wet. Maura’s tongue touched Jane’s, and then their mouths were open and connected. The third time they kissed, Jane had braced her forearm under Maura’s backside and carried her up the stairs, somehow maintaining a searing lip-on-lip union for the entire ride.

“You remember the first time we did this in here?” Jane asked when they finally broke apart, firmly within the bedroom with the door locked and the lights off. 

Maura leaned in to kiss her again. “Yes,” she said, “why?” She went to push Jane’s blazer off of her shoulders, but Jane stepped back quickly and removed it herself to keep Maura from touching it. She threw it on her side of the bed and then immediately untucked her shirt.

“Hands on the dresser,” she said, eyes narrowing. Maura’s mouth fell open, but she complied, standing at her full height and with her palms on the wood. Jane approached from behind, one hand on top of Maura’s left, intertwining with the fingers there, the other pulling the zipper of her dress down in hot torture. 

That hand then swiped down the now exposed skin of Maura’s back, and Maura knew what was being asked of her. She found her way out of the dress, kicked off her heels, and awaited further instructions. 

They didn’t come. Instead, she heard Jane, removing her own clothes, now farther away. Confused, Maura wanted to turn, until she heard the telltale opening of her nightstand drawer. She heard buckles being fastened and footsteps getting closer again, and she knew. It was heaven to hear Jane say it anyway.

“Bend over,” she said, the ‘over’ like  _ ovah _ , the ‘r’ barely there, ghosting across her auditory nerve just like Jane was ghosting over her now. “And open it up for me.”

Maura bit her lower lip in a mimicry of Jane downstairs, squeezing the edge of the dresser tightly. “Help me first,” she finally said, looking with hooded eyes behind her shoulder toward the clasp of her bra. “Show me you love me first.”

This beckoned Jane. She buried her nose in the hair at the back of Maura’s head and leaned her body into her. “I love you, I love you, I love you…” she whispered hoarsely, breath tumbling in a serpentine fog down Maura’s back, fingers undoing the clasp. She moaned when she held Maura’s breasts, heavy in her open palms, squeezed them when she felt Maura’s hips roll backwards into her. “Is it time?” she asked, and Maura nodded the base of her skull against Jane’s nose. Jane took action, pulling Maura’s underwear, a barely-there black thong, down to her ankles, biting skin as she lowered herself, kissing all the angry red spots she left as she rose up again. 

They were back to front for a long while, Jane groping, kissing shoulders and triceps and back muscles as Maura flexed them in anticipation. And then, as quickly as she had arrived, she was gone again, and the air that replaced her chilled Maura. Maura startled when a small bottle of lubricant was placed next to her on the dresser’s top. She rested her forehead on her folded arms, and then spread out, making a show of what Jane asked of her. “You aren’t going to need that,” she said, muffled by the cavern of her forearms and the grain below it, and as if on cue, Jane slid two fingers between her legs to check.

“You’re right,” Jane croaked. She tapped the inside of Maura’s thigh twice, telling her wordlessly to open up even more, and then she was inside.

They both gasped and Jane said  _ fuck _ , more than once. 

There was no time to get reacquainted, to take things slow, because Jane spread her stance wide, hips cocked in much the same way she moved through the world, and began to piston. She worked Maura shallow at first, keeping her movements light and quick.

Maura’s knees buckled at the sweet intrusion, and she moaned loudly when Jane’s arm braced against her belly. That scarred palm rubbed against her hipbone, back and forth and back and forth, and it was a secondary source of friction that drove her wild. It paired with the rough slide inside of her like a twin, and she bit down on the meat of her arm to ground herself. And when it was gone, when Jane moved her hand up to her shoulder instead, she sobbed as if she had lost a part of herself. The only thing that consoled her was lifting her head up and putting her hand over Jane’s, lacing their fingers as they bounced with the rhythm of their fucking. 

Jane burned with lust and with effort. Her thighs clenched, her abs hardened, but quick was the way to go - it staved off orgasm and allowed her to move with Maura for longer, allowed her this view of Maura from behind, in a way that she rarely saw her. “Agh,” she breathed out, trying to calm the fire in her lungs as she thrust forward, “you alright?”

Maura realized Jane must have been asking this because she sounded like she was crying. In reality, she was trying not to scream. “I’m ok. Keep going. I’m ok,” she assured her, and then she lifted her torso up as best she could, her arms back out against the dresser, an invite for Jane, which Jane accepted by gripping her hips and dropping her head between her shoulder blades. It was a welcome moment of rest.

They continued in blissful strain for a few more minutes after that, giving and accepting, until Jane slowed, panting heavily and sweating into the dip of Maura’s spine. She stopped, and then pulled out. “It’s not good enough,” she said, still out of breath. Maura turned around, and Jane fell into her arms. “Not close enough.”

“What?” Maura asked, just as gassed but a thousand times more disappointed, thinking they were finished.

Jane kissed her feverishly, pressed them together as though she were trying to make them one. “Up, up,” she said, and the goading smack of her hand on Maura’s behind sounded sinful in their bedroom. “Sit up there.”

She waited for Maura to jump up in her arms for leverage, and when she did, Jane picked her up and sat her just at the edge. When she smirked and slipped into Maura again, Maura gasped in delight. 

Their dance changed. Maura’s hands were sliding from scapulae to sides to the round of Jane’s ass as Jane entered her more deeply, more slowly. She switched from the broad-muscled offensive of before, and rolled her hips with pinpoint control. 

Maura felt each sensual winding in her palms as she encouraged the plunge. They kissed, and she shivered, filled in two places at once. “What changed?”

“Huh?” Jane asked against Maura’s cheek, trembling from the pleasure that  _ deep  _ and  _ slow  _ brought her. 

Apparently Maura felt the same, because it took awhile for her to answer. “You moved us. What changed? Oh  _ god _ . Keep doing that.”

“This feels better,” Jane laughed breathlessly, and then she pushed up further just the way Maura asked with words and with the way she pressed insistently against Jane’s behind.

“So much better,” Maura agreed. 

“Am I findin’ that stroke?” Jane panted through a smile, mocking Maura’s words from their first time together.

One finger came back up to rest against Jane’s lips heavily. “Shut up. I don’t want to have mixed feelings when I come for you,” Maura commanded, and it would have been much more intimidating if she weren’t already so close to the edge.

“Are you gonna?” Jane pulled back, gauging Maura’s readiness.

Maura yanked her in closely again, and wrapped her arms around Jane’s shoulders. “Soon,” she whispered.

Jane kissed her and to Maura it tasted like victory and a little bit of smugness. But mostly, it tasted like happiness. “Wait for me,” Jane begged in between kisses, “wait for me and we’ll do it together.”

And of course Maura waited.

* * *

“Hey,” Jane said as she walked into Maura’s office early the next evening. “I made it through a whole work day without cryin’. I think I deserve some ice cream.”

Maura had been typing the finishing touches on their latest victim’s final report when she saw Jane enter. She saved her work, and then shut down her desktop. “I will never understand how you can eat an ice cream cone when it’s forty degrees outside.”

Jane shrugged. “Ice cream is good year round, Maura. It’s not like the taste changes when it gets cold out.”

Maura shook her head, chuckling quietly, shedding her white coat and leaving her black blazer underneath. Her dress of the day, pink and sleeveless, was not as risque as the one the day before, but she still caught Jane looking.

Jane, however, looked debonair in a dark-navy suit, tailored to show off her long legs. The combination of it with her black boots, black v-neck t-shirt, and firearm screamed danger. But, only the best kind. Maura couldn’t resist putting her hands on the lapels and tugging them straight, even though they needed no adjustment. “And why do you look so dashing today?”

“You watched me get dressed this morning,” Jane said, secretly pleased. She looked at Maura with crinkled crow’s feet and pursed lips full of humor.

“Hmm,” Maura conceded the point. “But that was at home, and this is at work. Where you look very serious and in charge.”

Jane shrugged. “You’re the one who’s actually in charge, here. I’m a mid-level pawn at best, and you’re the Chief Medical Examiner.”

Jane was here to drive her home, so Maura walked back to her desk and gathered her things. “Even so, you’ve got an…  _ edge  _ about you today. You’re happy about something. The suit only adds to it.”

Jane blushed. She waited for Maura to pass before walking back to the elevator with her. “We just closed this case, finally, is all. That always puts me in a good mood.”

“This isn’t case face, Detective. But trust me, you won’t be able to keep your secret for long,” said Maura.

“No? How do you figure?” asked Jane, not looking at Maura as she pressed the up button. 

Maura knocked their shoulders together softly. “You can’t hide things from me. You’re practically incapable.”

“Maybe so.” Jane didn’t deny it. “Right now all I have to say is that I can’t wait to get home. It’s been a long-ass seventy-two hours.”

“Certainly has,” said Maura. She touched Jane’s tricep in thanks when they were outside and her car door was opened for her. “At least we have some cause to celebrate this evening.”

“Yeah. Our close rate lives to see another day,” Jane said, dropping her body into the driver’s seat.

* * *

The drive back home was a calm one, with exchanges about workdays and evidence reports, and even a spirited discussion about buying ice cream.

Jane looped her arm through Maura’s as that conversation continued. “Ok, but what if I watch something I don’t want to, all for you?”

Maura considered. “Downton Abbey?”

Jane metronomed her head back and forth. “Maybe. Is staying awake a prerequisite?”

Maura laughed as she unlocked the front door. “Oh absolutely.”

“Fair enough, but that means I can pick out a gallon tub, though,” Jane said, catching Maura’s contagious cheer. “Neapolitan.”

“Fine,” Maura said as they stumbled into the living area.

Angela and Frank Sr. stood just beyond the couch, waiting for them.

“What are you doin’ here?” Jane’s countenance changed at the sight of him. She put her body between him and Maura.

“He came here to tell you something himself,” Angela said with her arms crossed. Her glare nudged him forward, and he put his hands out as he stepped towards Jane.

“I came here to apologize to you, Jane,” Frank started, “and to you, Maura. I was a pig last night.”

Jane pushed back because she could hardly believe what she was hearing. “Don’t blame it on the wine, Pop.”

Frank shook his head. “I said some terrible things. I screwed up and I’m sorry.”

Jane took a deep breath. “Thank you for apologizing,” she said honestly.

“That must be hard for you,” Maura said with a friendly smile, “thank you for that.”

Frank didn’t get upset, but instead just acknowledged the fact. “It is. It always has been. But I got some good news at my ultrasound today. I do have cancer, but they said it was stage two.”

“That’s very treatable,” Maura said excitedly, stepping forward to rub Jane’s back.

Jane’s harsh visage faltered only a little, and only because even with all her father had said and did the night before, Maura still was genuinely happy for her. For her family. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said.

“I want you to forgive me, Jane, please,” Frank said. “You’re my number one daughter.”

His earnestness softened her enough to complete their script from her childhood. “I’m your only daughter, Pop.” She went to him, and they embraced. She hugged him in the masculine way he taught her, strong and enveloping, in what Maura thought was one of her best traits. “Ok,” said Jane when she pulled away. “So now what?”

“Well, I’m thinkin’ of moving back to Boston,” Frank said happily, looking between Jane and Angela.

“You have a new life in Florida, Frank,” Angela said in surprise. “I have a new life here.”

It clearly wasn’t the response he expected. “What are you sayin’, Ange?” 

“I’m saying… you’re not my husband anymore. You’ll always be our children’s father, and I’ll be here if you need me. But you should go back,” Angela replied, standing up with her arms still crossed.

Frank was shocked. “Jane?” He tried, hoping she would run to him, tell him to return.

“Yeah, uh, stay in touch, Pop. It’s a short flight. Come back anytime,” she said instead, smiling at him sadly.

He shrugged off his own disappointment. “Ok, I will. You take care of yourself, Angela.”

“You too, Frank,” Angela said, biting her lip when he went over to Jane, opening his arms for her again.

“Goodbye my sweet, big girl,” he said, sniffling loudly as she hugged him again.

She kissed the side of his head. “I love you, Daddy,” she said, crying softly.

“I love you, too,” he replied, and then he nodded to Maura just before he walked past her and out the front door.

Jane watched the tiny exchange in awe. Maura, through her quiet confidence and well-placed kindness, extracted respect from him. She didn’t run after him, offer him the guest room, or make him a cup of tea. Instead, she gave him what every Rizzoli valued the most: his dignity. She didn’t fuss over him, she didn’t spew off facts about how to treat alcoholism or condescend to him about his diagnosis. She let him be himself, knowing that in the end, somehow, that this is what would win him over. Jane’s hands shook and her palms sweated, because she knew what this revelation meant - what it meant she had to do. Now.

“Ok,” Angela said, unaware of Jane’s sudden silence, her nervousness. “So… now that we’re all good and depressed, what should we do? I have some Jell-O from last night. Nobody ate it.”

“That’s a shock,” Jane snarked, moving with her mother and Maura into the kitchen, but her voice was quiet.

“I have some cookies,” Maura called behind her back.

“The ones that taste like cardboard?” Jane said, close against Maura’s back, with Angela not far behind her. “This night just gets better and better.”

“Oh good,” Maura said, turning around once she had taken out the almond cookies. She scratched just under Jane’s chin before kissing her. “Well, I’m glad I saved a few for you.”

Jane shuddered. She looked to her side. “Really proud of the way you handled yourself, Ma,” she said to her mother.

“I’m proud of you, Jane, and your brothers. That’s who I’m proud of,” Angela said, hugging Jane’s left arm and placing a kiss over the fabric on her shoulder. “You’re all better people than he’ll ever be.”

Jane looked at Maura and her breathing quickened. “And uh, thanks for putting up with us nutballs, Maura.”

Maura laughed softly. “What do you mean put up with you? You’re  _ my  _ nutballs. You’re my family,” she said opening her arms, ready to hug Angela and Jane both.

However, Jane held a hand out, stopping her in her tracks. “You always say the right thing,” Jane said when Maura looked at her, confused and hurt. The hurt alleviated, but the confusion stuck around. “You always  _ do  _ the right thing. Just like how you finessed Pop today. You get me, you get us. And I was gonna wait to do this, but I just  _ can’t _ ,” she said, fishing around in her blazer pocket.

Angela gasped right before the bright teal box came out. 

Maura gasped after. “ _ Jane _ ,” she said, as though she were scolding her. 

“I know, I know. I just kicked out my deadbeat dad and my Ma is standing right here. Not the most romantic setting,” Jane said shakily, “but you cracked the Rizzoli code and I can’t take it anymore, babe. It’s already been burnin’ a hole in my pocket since yesterday mornin’. Ok?”

Maura nodded. “Ok,” she said breathlessly.

“Janie, if you don’t get down on one knee…” Angela whispered, kicking at Jane’s calf.

“Ma! I got this covered, alright? Back up,” Jane snapped, but knelt anyway. Angela put up her hands in surrender and walked backwards, landing awkwardly on the other side of the island and keeping one crying eye on her daughter. “I know we talked about this, that we decided we were gonna do this no matter what, and soon. But you deserve more than some haphazard agreement that you can come watch me die in the back of a meatwagon. You deserve a  _ life _ . And for some reason, you wanna live it with me and the rest of these crazy people, so I’m gonna do everything in my power to give it to you. So… marry me? Because I want nothin’ more than to marry you.”

And so, while Maura let a few tears slip down her cheeks unbidden, Jane opened the Tiffany box and waited. 

“Yes,” Maura choked out, “even though  _ I’m _ the one who told you that we needed to do this. Yes.”

Jane laughed when Maura did, both of them emotional when they kissed to seal their intentions. She slipped the ring onto Maura’s finger, but didn’t wait for her to admire it before gathering her up again.

“Oh thank god,” Angela sighed theatrically, crying even more than the newly engaged. 

“Relax, Ma. We talked about this. Maura wasn’t gonna say no,” Jane said, too happy to be annoyed.

“No, but I might say no to this ring,” Maura said, finally getting a good look at it on her finger - one rather large diamond placed just above a channel-set diamond band, in platinum, all of the smaller stones serving as accent marks on the one that took center stage: brilliant and blindingly clear. “Jane. It’s easily worth thirty-four th-”

Jane’s hand flew to Maura’s mouth, and she widened her eyes to indicate that Angela should not hear that the ring she bought Maura did in fact cost almost thirty-five thousand dollars. “Yeah well, call it an impulse purchase. The condo sold, and the market is on the upswing so I’ve got a little spending money in my pocket. Well,  _ had  _ a little spending money. You’re wearing it now. Do you like it at least?”

“I’d like it if you tied string around my finger. But this… it’s exquisite,” Maura said. The most expensive ring she’d seen? No. But definitely beautiful. And nothing to sneeze at. “You really,  _ really  _ should not have.”

“Nah. I should’ve,” Jane said, the air whooshing out of her in relief, “because you deserve it.”

Angela came over then, unable to hold it in. “Ok, I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that Janie bought a ring that costs more than my car, because I have to see it.” 

Maura smirked, held out her left hand, pleased beyond words to have any mother, but especially this one to whom she was so close, to share the moment with. Jane stepped back when Angela stepped close, crossing her hands over her belt buckle and letting the appraisal commence. 

“Oh my god,” Angela exclaimed in true Italian emotion. It was an excitement that had all the colorings of anger to an outsider, but the way she held Maura’s hand felt like affection. “It’s phenomenal. Who helped you with this?” She turned to Jane, eyes all narrow and suspicious.

Jane gasped in hurt surprise. “Who said anyone helped me?”

Angela only raised her eyebrows as high as humanly possible.

“I can shop for jewelry!” Jane yelled, indignant.

“Huh,” Angela was unconvinced. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I can! I picked it out all by myself! The lady at the counter even complimented my taste!” Jane said, arms now out to her sides and hair a little more wild than usual.

“Well Jane, they have to say that. They get paid to move product, even the ugly product,” Maura said matter-of-factly.

Jane simply gaped at her in disbelief until Angela guffawed, and then she laughed too. Maura smiled, wide-eyed, unsure what was so funny about what she’d said, but happy for their argument to have so quickly turned back to mirth. 

“Oh you kids!” Angela said through gritted teeth as she gathered them both in her arms and squeezed tight. Jane protested through the whole thing, but Maura sank into it with pleasure. “I love you so much. And your children are going to be  _ ugh _ . Gorgeous. Look at you,” she snatched their cheeks in between her thumbs and forefingers, and pinched until Jane looked ready to pounce. “I’m going to call your brothers. Tonight, we’re gonna have a  _ celebratory  _ family dinner. And no one’s havin’ a fist fight, or leavin’ early! It’s gonna be all love!” she called, her voice stretching further and further away until she was behind the back door to retrieve her cell phone from the guest house.

This left Jane and Maura alone, much in the same way they had been that fateful night, when Jane gave Angela an ultimatum and Maura walked Jane up to her bedroom. “Out of all the scenarios I could have imagined, you proposing to me in front of your mother wasn’t one of them,” Maura said, hand on the center of Jane’s chest.

Jane shrugged. “But it worked out, didn’t it? It just felt like it was time. I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Maura. “Well, I mean, there could have been better venues than my kitchen, but I would only want you to do it when you felt most convicted. I honestly didn’t expect you to do it at all. I thought we would just sit down and agree to a date one day.”

“You deserve all the pomp and circumstance, Maura, even if I hate it,” Jane said seriously. 

Maura smiled, happy to accept the compliment. “Just promise me that you won’t wear a jersey to our wedding.”

Jane feigned offense. “Not even the navy road alternate?” 

“I don’t know what that is, but no. Not even that one,” Maura said firmly.

“Ok,” said Jane. “As long as we don’t have coffee-flavored frosting.”

“Deal. Jane?” Maura asked, stepping forward, asking to be held.

“Yeah.” Jane wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“I love you more than words could possibly say.” Maura admitted quietly against the hot skin of Jane’s neck. She inhaled the floral scent there, and closed her eyes to savor it, uninterrupted by any other sense.

“I love you that much, too. But I swear I’m gonna spend the rest of my life tryin’ to come up with them.” Jane said, and they stood together, content just to be until Angela came back and their lives returned to benevolent chaos once again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other fan fiction site appears to not be working for me, so you all get this chapter first!


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